


Oneshots.

by happybucky



Category: Supernatural
Genre: DeanCas - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 09:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 42,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6849301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happybucky/pseuds/happybucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot of these are gonna be Destiel. Sorry, not sorry!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

Welcome to my oneshots!! These will mostly be Supernatural based, but maybe there'll be a few other fandoms. If you wanna request one, feel free to comment here, or tweet me (@drparkereid)

 

I hope that you enjoy reading! :)

 

~*~*~*~


	2. Grumpy barista Dean, and annoying hispter (with a ridiculous order) Cas.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the 'tired, grumpy worker, and hispter with the ridiculous coffee order' tweet.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

_**Friday morning, 8.07a.m.** _

 

__

As the door to the dimly lit coffee shop dings, the redhead shoots a glance towards whoever has just entered. "You're late!" She flings him a green apron, which he somehow catches one handed.

 

"My car broke down," he shrugs nonchalantly, lazily dressing himself with the garment that he had just caught.

 

"Dean, you _bike_ to work." She deadpans, giving him the utmost _'done with your shit'_ look. 

 

"Eh," he simply replies, walking around to join her behind the counter.

 

Their other two colleagues are busy cleaning the tables inside the small living room type shop, so that they can turn around the 'closed' sign – seven minutes after they're supposed to. At first, they barely get any customers... Which isn't a bad thing. 

 

Dean lounges around behind the counter, letting his good friend Charlie take their early morning orders – and he'll grumble something whenever she calls out an order for him to make. Just as he feels his eyes closing, and his elbows pressing against the cold worktop, the sound of someone clearing their throat interprets him mid-yawn.

 

There's a young man standing just a few metres away from him – wearing a lot of denim, and a pair of thick, black glasses – who is currently tapping his fingers impatiently against the sketchbook that's held in his arms. "Excuse me? I'm assuming from from apron that you do in fact work here," the blue eyes flit down to Dean's work uniform, and then back up to his half asleep eyes.

 

Blinking once at the customer, he looks across to see that one of his colleagues is watching him – a.k.a the only worker who actually likes the manager, and vice versa – so, he hurriedly straightens his posture up. "Sorry, uh.. Sir. What can I get ya?" Dean rubs his eyes, and then tries his best to smile.

 

"I want a large iced caramel macchiato, hold the caramel drizzle and the ice. I want my moneys worth if I'm paying 5 bucks for this... and I want three shots of espresso – oh, and skimmed milk instead of whatever the hell they poured for me last time.. and, make it quick – I got a class in fifteen minutes." 

 

When the guy had parted his lips to speak just a few seconds ago, Dean certainly wasn't expecting _that_ to leave his mouth. Unsure of what on earth to fire back, he turns around to see that Charlie is trying her hardest not to burst out laughing at what the pair of them aren't even sure they heard correctly.

 

Turning back to the student again, he stares judgingly at the Barista. "Well?" His head cocks to the side, and his eyebrows raise upwards.

 

"Coming right up, princess." Dean rolls his eyes as dramatically as humanly possible, before turning away from the pompous customer. Grabbing a notepad, he hurriedly scribbles down the order, and then gets to making it.

 

As he waits for the water to fill one of the plastic cups, Charlie nudges him with her elbow. "He's cute," she comments, whilst taking the ice scoop out of Dean's hand, tapping the part on the notepad where he had jotted down ** _'NO ICE!!!!'_**

****

Mentally face palming himself, Dean scoffs slightly. "He's a dick," he responds.

 

Switching off the tap for the water, he moves along to adding the shots of coffee. Charlie follows in pursuit, reaching down into the fridge for the skimmed milk. She pours it into the cup, and then stirs. "Yeah, but... Cute." The redhead shrugs, readjusting her apron.

 

"And, a prick!" Dean snaps back at her, yawning straight afterwards.

 

"Mr. Grumpy has gotta stop cramming all of his freakin' studying in the night hours!" Her whisper-shout almost causes him to jump... Charlie never really snaps at anyone, unless they need it.

 

Apologising to his friend, Dean swirls the coffee around the cup. Placing a lid on top of it, he finally faces the unhappy faced customer at the front of the line. "There ya go, here's your coffee with the hold the this and that's... Enjoy your art class, or whatever." He puts the beverage down on the counter with one swift movement of his hand, and then holds it palm upwards for the money.

 

His eyes bore through the customer, as he picks up the drink and inspects it – as if looking at a diamond, in order to see whether or not it's fake. Eventually, he hands Dean a five dollar bill. "Thanks... No need to look so grumpy though. It really doesn't hurt to smile once in a while," the guy informs, but before anything witty can leave Dean's mouth, the sound of the tinkling bell rings... And, the mysterious student is gone.

 

~*~*~*~

 

 


	3. Not my kitten!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas moves into a new apartment, and becomes aware that a hot guy lives in the apartment below his. When the hot guy isn't on the balcony, a cat is lounging there. One day the cat gets into Cas' apartment, so he catches it – grateful to have an excuse to go downstairs, and meet the hot guy, Dean. It turns out the cat is very much not Dean's, it just hangs out on his balcony no matter how much he shoos it away, and now he's sneezing ucontrollably. Cas apologises, befriends Dean, and winds up adopting the cat.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

It's a breezy summer's morning, when Cas is distracted from his book by a quiet sound coming from his kitchen... A 'meowing' sound, to be precise. Placing the book faced downwards onto his glass coffee table, he gets up to investigate.

 

Sure enough, sitting on his counter like she owns it – a little white kitten... _The_ little white kitten. The same one that Castiel always sees lounging around on the balcony directly below his. Having only moved in three weeks ago, Cas hasn't really gotten to know any of his neighbours. But, he certainly knows _of_ the guy who lives below him – Dean, is his name. And, _wow_ does Cas have a crush on him.

 

"Hey there, have you come to grant me my wish of finally plucking up the courage to go speak to Dean?" Castiel coos affectionately towards the little animal, nearing her slowly so as not to frighten her out of her nearby open window.

 

One blue, and one green eye stares back at him, as he finally reaches the edge of the counter. She meows again, and gratefully leans into his comforting touch. He smiles, and picks up the little kitten into his two palms. "Let's get you back to where you belong," he says, making his way towards the front door.

 

The animal is rather content with snuggling into Cas' t-shirt, as he rides the elevator down to floor one. He knows exactly what door to knock on – he passes it whenever he's on his way to do the laundry. 

 

Giving one one firm knock at the door, he inhales. "Don't let me mess this up," he mutters to the kitten – that's totally normal, talking to an animal... _Right?_

 

Hearing a disgruntled groan from somewhere inside the apartment before him, Cas shifts on one foot. He hopes that he hasn't disturbed Dean from doing something important. With no time to worry about ruining the hot guy's day, he is soon faced with the man – who doesn't looked too pleased about being faced with Cas.

 

"Hi – I brought your cat back... She was roaming inside my kitchen, so I thought I'd better return her," Castiel explains all in one breath – barely being able to utter the last word without trying to gasp for some much needed oxygen.

 

Dean blinks twice, and then steps backwards a little. "Slow down... You're what?" The gruff voice questions, and Castiel feels his cheeks heating up. He's never really had the chance to hear him speak, and now he's completely thrown off course.

 

"Uh..." Trailing off, Cas forgets what he was taking about. The small meow from the snowy white fluff ball in his hands promptly reminds him, so he looks back up at Dean with a newfound spark of confidence.

 

Holding the kitten out to the confused male, he attempts at speaking at a normal pace this time. "Your kitten was in my apartment, so I decided she'd better go back to where she belongs," he flashes a smile, hoping that Dean would thank him and befriend his awkwardness.

 

"I – uh, I hate to break it to you... But..." Stepping back even further, Dean suddenly ducks behind his door and sneezes.

 

Castiel frowns, unsure of what Dean was going to say. "Bless you." He comments, further awaiting the explanation that he was about to recieve.

 

He appears back in the door way once again, rubbing his nose. "That's not –" another sneeze, "my cat!" He finally manages to get it out, seeming in a little distress – to say the least.

 

Castiel's eyes widen, and he hurriedly withdraws his outstretched arms from the guy. He looks down at the innocent looking kitten, and then back up at the sniffling hot guy. "She's – she's not?" He watches Dean shake his head vigorously, and then notes that he's continuing to stand further and further away.

 

"Who does she belong to then? And, why is she always on _your_ balcony?!" Simply wanting to get the poor animal back to where she belongs, Cas' concern comes across in his raised voiced tone.

 

"I don't freakin' know! She won't leave me alone, no matter how –" his hands appear by his mouth again, as he sneezes yet again. "– often I shoo her away." His arms fold defensively over his chest, and an annoyed frown paints across his reddened face.

 

Cas' mouth drops open slightly, and then he proceeds to look towards the kitten, and then towards Dean... Who's preparing for another sneeze. _Shit._

 

"ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO CATS?!" Castiel blurts out in one big, blended together word. He stumbles backwards, almost tripping over his own clumsy feet.

 

The total, utter look of _'I am so done with you'_ appears on Dean's face, before his pursed lips open slightly. "No shit, Sherlock." He huffs, blinking the tears out of his watery eyes – which Cas can't help staring at, because they're genuinely such a captivating green.

 

"I am _so_ sorry, oh my god... Why didn't you just say something?!" He gushes an apology, knowing that he's definetely ruined any chance of befriending the hot guy below him now.

 

A cross between a laugh and a choke emits from Dean's mouth, "oh, I don't know... Maybe because I could barely get a word out?" Cas is glad that he's laughing, even though the sarcasm literally drips from the sentence that he's just retorted with.

 

"What am I gonna do with the kitten now?" A small gasp leaves Cas' own mouth, and he flinches slightly as Dean – _you guessed it_ – has to sneeze one more time.

 

"Take her away from me, for starters!" Is the slightly yelled out reply, to which Castiel responds by moving as far back as he can go, without hitting into the wall behind him.

 

He waits with curiosity, as Dean heads inside his apartment, and then comes back out again. "Look, try looking for a shelter agency in here," he hesitantly walks towards Cas, and hands him a yellow pages.

 

"Far as I know, she's a stray," he steps back inside the safety of his own doorway, and then uses a tissue.

 

"T – thank you, and honestly I really am sorry. I just assumed that she was yours," chewing on his bottom lip out of an anxious habit, Castiel is surprised when Dean's face cracks into a smile.

 

"Eh, it was somewhat worth it." He shrugs, and then that familiar feeling of warmth against Cas' cheeks seems to suddenly reappear.

 

Swallowing hard, he dares to question Dean what he means. "Meaning?" His eyes of blue dart up to meet that bright green shade, that are now tinged with a redness around them – no thanks to stupid Castiel Novak.

 

"I've kinda been wanting to talk to the hot new guy, from upstairs." He admits, shoving his hands into his pockets, as a shy smile paints upon his lips.

 

Almost physically gasping in surprise, Cas trise his best to keep his cool. "Well, you know... I've kinda been pining to talk to you ever since I noticed you. Um, if I stop by again – kitten-less, this time – would you consider inviting me in for coffee?" It seems as if his mouth is moving without one hundred percent of his brain's permission, but Dean is already opening his own to reply.

 

"I might just have to take you up on that, um..?"

 

"Castiel – Cas. I already kind of overheard someone utter your name in the laundry room, at least, I'm guessing 'the super hot guy in room nine' counts as being you," a loud chuckle comes from Dean, who scratches at the back of his neck.

 

He looks up from his bare feet, and his smile is contagious. "What can I say? Chicks dig me. But, I'd rather be dug by you," he winks, and then clicks his tongue – causing Cas to laugh at his smug attitude. Knowing that he's only joking though, this doesn't phase his opinion on him at all.

 

"Well, uh, I'm gonna get out of your way now. Sorry again," a half smile flashes over at Dean, who lifts his hand up to wave.

 

He's about to say goodbye to the hot guy from upstairs, but his nose clearly has some other ideas. Cas scowls at the kitten in his arms as he hears Dean sneeze, and then he calls out, "bless you!" Before stepping inside of the elevator.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Upon Castiel's second visit to Dean's, he was in fact invited in, and they bonded over some homemade pie and coffee. Cas likes Dean a lot, and it seems to be rather reciprocated – because, two weeks later and they're heading out on their first date.

 

Not after Dean has taken his new allergy pills, of course... Because, Castiel Novak couldn't bring himself to get rid of the little mischief maker who set him up with a super hot, and nice guy. So, he adopted her... And, he named her 'Freckles.'

 

_Why?_

 

Because he wanted to name her something that reminded him of someone he's fallen head over heels for... Despite their awkward, first interaction.

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

 


	4. High School Destiel.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> {idea credit: KATHRYNLNEWT0N on twitter!}
> 
>    
> In which Dean is a popular jock for the football team of the small town he lives in. He's best friends with Cas – who's very much openly gay. A lot of people living the small town life have nothing better to do than pick on the 'different' kid. Dean doesn't like that. Not one bit.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

Cas' worn out sneakers swing back and forth, under the bench in the boys' locker room. He's waiting for his friend Dean to finish in the showers, since he asked him to wait here – they're going to watch a movie, after his practice. 

 

The familiar rowdy buzz of chatter soon fills his ears, as the football team pile out of the shower room. Castiel's eyes of blue advert towards the ground, but they jerk upwards again when the bench vibrates from a heavy gym bag landing on it. "Move," a gruff voice snaps, and of course he's going to do as he's told.

 

"Sorry," he mumbles barely even audible enough for his own ears to register.

 

"You will be," the guy scoffs, but his rudeness is interrupted as someone else enters the proximity of where they're standing.

 

The comforting smell of that unmistakable cologne gives Cas enough confidence to tear his gaze away from his sneakers. "Leave him alone, you douchebag." Dean stands as close as he can to his fellow jock, not removing eye contact for one moment.

 

The guy simply laughs, before swiping up his bag and heading towards another bench. Half smiling at his friend, Cas takes his seat back again. "You don't need to keep doing that for me," he says – only loud enough for the Winchester to hear.

 

"That's what best friends are for, right?" He quips, flashing Cas a smile.

 

Forcing himself to smile back, Cas replays his words quietly inside of his mind. _'Best friends.'_

 

~*~*~*~

 

Not even two whole days later, and Castiel Novak finds himself in another situation, where he's being cornered. He's heading out of the library to find Dean – who's most likely kissing some girl behind the bleachers – when he heads around a corner, only to come face to face with three jocks.

 

Unfortunatley, they see him before he has the chance to turn around. Keeping his head down low, he attempts at walking through their crowd. "Excuse me," he says with all of his might, as they purposefully move closer to each other, in order to block his path.

 

"Sorry, we only let _normal_ people come down this corridor," the tallest one jeers.

 

Cas rolls his eyes. He remembers what Dean tells him all of the time – 'stick up for yourself, you don't deserve the shit that they give you.' He takes a large intake of breath, before blurting out, "let me through!"

 

The gang of males begin to laugh, and they each step closer to Cas' face. "Or what? You'll get your boyfriend on us?" They snigger, a few of them holding their hands out for fellow high fives.

 

"Dean isn't my boyfriend, and I can stick up for myself." He states firmly, and then takes a shot at pushing past them.

 

Well... That was his _first_ mistake. Bouncing backwards after bumping into the muscly chest of the middle man, their facial expressions each drop down into in sync frowns. "Are you looking for a fight today?" The smallest – who is still at least three inches taller than Novak – cracks his knuckles.

 

"No, I don't believe in violence.. I'd just like to get past you," he unintentionally gulps, watching the three pairs of eyes as they fiercely glue themselves to different areas of his body.

 

Silently accepting his fate, Cas feels the first punch hit him straight in the nose. He doesn't fall down though, whereas his array of books do go scattering to the floor. "He's getting confident," one of them comments, watching as their victim stands up straight again.

 

Thinking that losing his books would be better than losing a few teeth, Cas quickly makes a break for the small gap that has formed inbetween the three teenage boys. And, that was his _second_ mistake. He's yanked back just before he can make a break out of the double doors, that are just a couple of metres away. "Trying to run?!" The chuckle hurts his ears, it's so loud and obnoxious.

 

The next punch hits him in the stomach, and the gang finally get what they want – Cas lying on the floor in pain. He screws his eyes shut, preparing for the impact of the combat boot that he had seen raising from the ground in anticipation just a few seconds ago. But, five seconds pass, and no kick comes.

 

Opening one eye just a little, he spots a fourth figure in the equation now. This fourth figure seems to have just smacked the tallest jock right in the face, as he's now holding his jaw in pain. "Fuck off," the low, defensive tone could be recognisable to Cas from twenty miles away.

 

"This isn't over, Winchester," the one with the injured jaw mumbles slightly incoherently, due to his newfound pain.

 

Dean eyes the teacher to his left, and then laughs. His middle finger brands itself into the air, as the three boys hurry off out of the double doors to their right. The next thing Cas feels is Dean's strong grip hoisting him up from the ground. The eyes of green look him up and down in disappointment, which causes Castiel to note the blood on his shirt.

 

"You can't keep letting them do this to you," he says, taking Cas by the arm to lead him through the double doors, and outside into the school grounds.

 

"You know I don't believe in reciprocating violence," the shorter male replies to his friend.

 

Dean sighs heavily, before handing Cas his books back, that he'd collected after delivering that perfectly aimed punch to Jake Whiting's smug little face. "Thank you," the ocean eyes flicker downwards again.

 

Then proceeding to hand Cas a tissue – to clean up the blood, that's stained his face, as well as his shirt – he clears his throat. "Let's just go back to mine, you can borrow some of my clean clothes... Then, we're going out for food." The Winchester announces, and Castiel dare'n't argue.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Feeling in much higher spirits now, Castiel Novak has almost forgotten about the pain he was caused a few hours earlier. His hands are deep inside the warm hoody that Dean let him borrow, and it smells strongly of his cologne too. 

 

The best friends have just walked out of a nearby burger joint, where they sat and ate for quite a while. They also talked, and laughed, a lot – something Cas _really_ needed. The chilly evening air travels over their skin, as they both look up at the star dusted sky. "Wanna go back to mine and watch a movie?" Dean suggests – since it's Friday.

 

"Please," Cas answers, for once not disagreeing with his plans for relaxing, for the sake of studying instead.

 

A smile creeps its way upon Dean's face, as they both turn the corner onto a new street. "Shit," Dean grabs Cas' arm, but it's too late to turn him around. 

 

There's too many cars on the road to run across the street safely, and they can't turn around now. The group of fellow jocks are already walking towards them – having noticed their fellow teammate, in his strikingly obvious football jacket, within seconds. They also noticed his friend, who's wearing _Dean's_ clothes. An opportunity they simply cannot afford to miss.

 

"I didn't know you swung that way, Winchester?" Jake's voice is the first to start off the taunts, as the large group head towards them both.

 

Cas glances desperately behind them, only to see pretty much the whole other half of their school's football team about to join them. Dean can't beat all of these guys up, and there's certainly not going to be any teachers wandering by to save them. _Crap._

 

His heart beat is quickening, but the look in Dean's eyes seems to be calm. "You know what?" Looking directly at Jake, Cas wonders what he's planning... Maybe, he'll go for Jake first, which will give Cas a chance to run.

 

An intense feeling of shock soon runs its way throughout Castiel's body, as his fingers become entwined with Dean's – who actually initiated this contact. The next thing that happens practically renders Cas completely breathless... Dean Winchester turns towards his best friend, and leans slowly in towards his lips.

 

The Winchester's eyes are closed, his eyelashes fluttering delicately as their mouths both touch against one another's. At first, Cas' eyes are wide open. He expects Dean to pull away milliseconds after the contact, because, well... He's straight, right? So, he's probably only doing this to piss the jocks off.

 

But, when Dean's other hand finds its place gently against Cas' hip, and he starts to move closer to Castiel's trembling body, he finds that his own pair of eyes are now closing too. They both move with the kiss, taking in each others presence. In fact – if it wasn't for a gasp of surprise coming from somewhere nearby, they most likely would've continued to get lost in the moment, and carry on forgetting that they're in public.

 

Dean is the first to jump back, the look on his face almost equally as surprised as Cas'. He wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, before a lopsided grin appears on his face. Turning to look at the open mouthed faces of his fellow teammates, the Winchester simply shrugs.

 

"Well, I guess I'm not as straight as I thought I was."

 

~*~*~*~

 

 


	5. Small talk in the nurse's office.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel crushes on Dean pretty much 24/7. But, Cas is the nerd... And, Dean is the super popular jock. When both students happen to be the only ones inside of the waiting room for the nurse's office, it seems that maybe opposites do in fact attract, afterall.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

A sweltering hot summer's day, is the day that Cas Novak's wishes _finally_ come true. The day starts off pretty crap though – consisting of getting the shit kicked out of him by the usual bullies, as usual.

 

As he slumps into his chair at the back of the classroom (five minutes late, due to cleaning as much blood off of his face and clothes as possible,) a small gasp emits from his tiny, English teacher. "Castiel, whatever did you do to yourself?!" She squeaks, tottering over to where he's violently blinking in order to be able to see straight.

 

The pain in his head sears it's way throughout his temple, and aches all the way behind his eyes. He had actually fallen and hit his head on some lockers pretty hard, which is most likely why the bullies had run off and left him alone. "I – I fell," Cas gropes at his stomach, as a slightly nauseous feeling rushes over him when he speaks.

 

Looking directly into his eyes, his teacher tuts loudly. "Take yourself off to the nurse, at once! Bradbury, help him to it!" She ushers the redhead to stand up from her seat, and make her way to Novak's side.

 

"I'm fine," waving his hand, Cas pushes his chair backwards in order to stand up. 

 

Of course, he dramatically sways to the left – thankfully, the side that Charlie is standing on. She catches him easily, considering they're pretty much the same height. Holding safely onto his arm, the pair make their way out of the classroom. "I know you didn't just _fall,_ " she states, now that they're out of earshot of their teacher.

 

Castiel ignores her comment, and focuses on not vomiting on her converse instead. "You need to stick up for yourself... I learnt to," she speaks again.

 

Sighing, they turn the last corner that they need to go down, in order to reach their destination. "Thanks," Cas mumbles, leaning against the wall before he prepares himself the embarrassment of facing whoever is sitting inside the waiting room.

 

"Just... You don't deserve that," Charlie Bradbury is the sweetest soul – she's usually the one to pair up with Cas in group work, and compliment him on his doodles.

 

"Hmm," the blue eyed student shrugs, turning so that he can push the door handle down.

 

Hearing the girl sigh quietly, Cas enters the nurse's waiting room. The sound of Charlie's footsteps thudding away into the distance causes Castiel to realise just how quiet the room is. The door clicks shut behind him, and he's forced to tear his eyes away from the ground, in order to search for a seat. Maybe he should've looked up before the door closed though, because sitting in the corner slouched in one of the worn out chairs, is... Dean Winchester himself.

 

A.k.a popular jock, and member of the football team. Also known as Castiel's ultimate crush. Feeling a warm blush already creeping up his neck, Novak hurries his way to the far corner. He jumps onto the seat, and folds his arms over his chest. _Crap, crap, crap._ The sudden pain in his head distracts him from freaking out over being in a room on his own with _Dean Winchester_ , and he winces slightly.

 

"Hey, you okay?" A gruff voice echoes around the empty boxed room.

 

Cas' head snaps upwards, not really expecting the jock to talk _to him_ , of all people. Unable to piece a sentence together safely without the chance of him stuttering, he just decides to nod instead. "You look like you're about to hurl, dude." Dean comments, eyeing Cas up and down – which is _so_  very distracting.

 

"Why are you in here, anyway?" Changing the subject and almost having an aneurism over the fact that he's plucking up enough courage to talk to Dean Winchester, Cas sits up a little more.

 

"Coach Singer is too dramatic," the sarcasm is showing... But, Cas knows that Dean is one to be stubborn. He once remembered when he tried to finish a game (yes, Cas watches him play) with a broken wrist.

 

Trying not to stare at him too intently, but also feeling intimidated everytime their eyes both met, Cas continues to be intrigued. "But, why'd he send you here?" 

 

"Because, my brother is little asshat... And, he told coach that I couldn't play today – 'cause, I woke up with a fever. Which is gone now, might I add." Dean grumbles, the frown on his face looking too adorable for words.

 

"You shouldn't play if you're sick – it'll only get worse," Cas finds himself saying, and he's confused when the Winchester laughs at his statement.

 

"I'm fine," he replies matter-of-factly, but when he attempts at crossing his legs after speaking, Castiel can't miss the look of discomfort upon his face.

 

"Aching joints, huh? Should probably see a nurse about that," a smile tugs at Cas' lips.

 

Dean looks at him, and finds that the guy has an extremely contagious smile. "Shut up," he grins, leaning back in his chair.

 

A couple of seconds later, and the dramatic sound of the door flying open causes both Cas and Dean to flinch in shock. "Cas, here's your stuff... Miss doesn't want you to come back to lesson with a concussion," Charlie carefully hands him his school things, before turning to smile at Dean.

 

Barely having time to thank her, the cheery redhead is gone as quick as she had come. "Is that your sketchbook?" Dean questions, eyeing the worn out navy blue book that Cas is clearly gripping the tightest.

 

Unbeknownst to the fact that the jock was even aware of the fact that Cas owned a sketchbook, he nods shyly. "I've seen some of your drawings before, when you draw in class.. I wish I could draw," he admits, looking at Novak with a look of such interest.

 

"Y – _you_ think they're good?" He stumbles over his words, whilst his cheeks become dusted with pink.

 

Dean chuckles, "of course I do!" The pair are interrupted as the door to the nurse's office finally opens, and a first grader with an embarrassed look on his charred face leaves the room. "Bunson burners," the woman rolls her eyes, and Cas and Dean each snigger quietly.

 

"Right, Winchester... In you come, please." She looks towards Dean, who groans like the drama queen that he is.

 

Shakily standing up from his seat, Castiel feels a sudden twinge of sympathy for him – wouldn't it be great if he could just wander over and cuddle him. "This conversation of compliments isn't over, Novak." Cas looks around the room as if he might be referring to someone else, and then his eyes flit back up to where the Winchester is grinning cheekily back at him.

 

"Football practice, Saturday... Meet me by the bleachers, and this time I might even pose for your drawings," he winks, before the nurse has to resist the temptation to drag the annoying kid inside the room by his ear.

 

Meanwhile, Castiel is sat wondering whether or not the affects of his concussion have just caused him to hallucinate Dean freakin' Winchester actually sending him compliments. And, asking to actually spend time with him?

 

Maybe dreams _do_ come true, afterall.

 

~*~*~*~

 


	6. A Meeting at the Park.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which single father's – Dean Winchester, and Castiel Novak – take their kids to the park, and find pleasant company within one another's presence. {idea from: @halseybullshit on Twitter!}

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

Strawberry jam is stuck in his hair, his fingers have been messily painted with tacky kids' nail polish, his feet already ache and he has 'Let It Go' deadpanning through gritted teeth already... That's right, its eleven a.m. in Dean Winchester's world.

 

Deciding that a trip to the park on a slightly sunny Saturday afternoon is more favourable than staying at home and getting pestered by your overactive three year old daughter, Dean is now yelling at her to wait for him by the tree stump she just almost fell over – she's getting 'a bit too old' to hold his hand now, _apparently._

 

Scrawny tufts of deep brunette hair get in the way of those emerald eyes. "What did Daddy tell you?" Dean stands with one hand on his hip, trying not to pant from exhaustion. 

 

The little girl looks up at him with innocence written across the shade of green, as she tugs at the hem of her denim dress. "Don't talk to strangers, don't eat too much candy, always use a clean tissue –" beginning to reel off pretty much every single one of Dean's house rules, he abruptly stops her.

 

"What did I tell you before we left the house?" He gives her a look, "smarty pants."

 

A tiny grin flashes upon her freckle ridden face, "don't run off too far." She finalises, out stretching her freshly pink manicured (thanks to her Daddy) hand, for him to hold.

 

Moving the bag of important things needed at the park into his left hand, he holds her smaller one in his right. They walk to the park being rather civil, and even chat about the dog that's on the other side of the street. "Can I have a dog?" She skips along, watching her scuffed daisy patterned shoes skim across the concrete.

 

"No, honey," Dean puts it gently, stopping as they reach the last road they need to cross, before they reach their destination.

 

Huffing loudly, the girl pouts sadly. "Why?" 

 

"Because Daddy goes to work, and nobody would be there to look after it," the park nears their eyeline.

 

"But, _I_ can stay home!"

 

"You have kindergarten," Dean opens the gate to the play area, and grimaces at the high amount of screaming kids.

 

His daughter tugs away from his hand, but continues their debate. "So?" She folds her arms, practically mastering his own stance.

 

"So... Nothing. Now, off you go. I'll be right over there," pointing to the only empty bench in the whole place, Dean starts to head over.

 

Thankfully, his daughter seems to have spotted one of her friends. He sits down on the wooden seat, and smiles as the kids hurry up the climbing frame together. "This seat taken?" A sudden introduction of speech causes Dean to flinch in surprise, then he looks up, and shields his eyes from the sun.

 

"Nope," the man is kitted out in a wrinkled shirt and navy blue tie – which he's already loosening, even before he takes a seat.

 

He plonks himself to Dean's right, and places a bag similar to Mr Winchester's own, on the floor in front of his feet. "You gotta bring so much, you know? Juice, tissues, snacks... Band-aids!" The stranger rants, leaning back and catching his breath.

 

Chuckling quietly, Dean doesn't take his eye off of his little girl, waving when she zooms down the slide. "She yours?" The stranger doesn't get the hint that he's not into conversations, which ensues an almost silent sigh.

 

"Yeah... How about you?" Looking around for anyone who may resemble the black haired new comer beside him. Dean looks at the guy next to him, deciding to act as engaged as possible... _Wow, this guy is actually extremely nice to look at._

 

 _T_ he man smiles proudly, before pointing out a slightly taller girl than Dean's – over by the monkey bars. "Took Claire two weeks to learn those, we had to come here practically every damn day." 

 

Noticing that his own child has now queued up to use them, Dean shifts wearily in his seat. "Yeah, my Mary-Rose has never quite gotten to grip."

 

Both parents watch, as Claire turns around and spots the smaller girl behind her. "That's a sweet name," the guy next to Dean adds politely.

 

"I'm Cas, by the way," extending a hand for him to shake, Dean thinks _'ah, what the hell?'_ and returns the kind gesture. 

 

Afterall, his kid certainly seems nice enough – Claire is already showing Mary-Rose exactly how to use the monkey bars. "I'm Dean," he introduces back, quickly turning his eyes towards his child once again.

 

It seems that little Mary is a little too afraid of the monkey bars, so when Claire jumps back onto the sandy floor, she waves for her new friend to follow her over to the swings instead. Letting their daughters wander further away into the playground, the two Dads get chatting.

 

After bonding over how ridiculous children can be about certain things – Claire's personal favourite is wanting her hair plaited a certain way before school. And, Mary-Rose's? No matter what Dean has tried, he just _cannot_ get rid of her pacifier. "Wanna know how we got rid of Claire's, last year?" Cas bites into an apple that he's just retrieved from the never-ending bag below him.

 

Seeing Dean nod eagerly, the man carries on. "We left it out for Batwoman to collect, before she goes on her nightly patrol."

 

Almost choking on his orange flavoured juice box, Dean frowns. "I mean, I've heard of the binky _fairy_ , but –" his lopsided smile of confusion suddenly begins to fade away, as the distant sound of his own child crying begins to fill the air.

 

Eyes darting towards the area of the wails, sure enough Mary-Rose is nearby. Cas' daughter is holding her hand, as she limps towards the parents. "This boy pushed her down the slide, when she said she didn't want a push! So, I hit him," Claire grins a gap-toothed grin, but her Dad's face contorts into a frown.

 

Letting go of Mary-Rose's hand, Claire pouts. Dean lifts the crying child up onto his knee, and rummages around in his bag with the other. Popping a purple pacifier into her mouth, he starts to gently rock her. "Claire, what have we said about hitting?" Cas asks sternly, and Dean pretends to be invisible for a few seconds.

 

"But, he was a mean boy!" The girl protests firmly, her eyes wandering to where a little boy is now running over to his Mommy – tears streaming down his face too.

 

"We're going home," grabbing up his things, Cas stands up from the bench.

 

Gasping loudly, Claire immediatley runs over to her new friend. "No!" Mary-Rose reaches out for her heroine, holding tightly onto her hand.

 

"The boy called me a stupid girl, and Claire was being my fwend!" Voice muffled by the pacifier, little Mary-Rose tells the two Dad's the truth.

 

A smirk tugs at the elder girl's mouth," _and,_  I didn't even say a bad word back," she states proudly, turning to her Dad for some praise.

 

"No, you just hit him," Dean can't help but snort, and Cas looks at him with disapproval.

 

Pretending that nothing happened, the Winchester then feels his daughter climb down from his lap. She wraps her arm's around Claire's waist, and squeezes her eyes shut. The plaited blonde finds something from her bag – a tissue, to wipe her new friend's watery eyes. "Right... I'd send you to go say sorry, but quite frankly the kid's a butthole – I've heard about him from your school," Cas begins, looking serious at his child.

 

"But, no more hitting, okay? Go play nicely," he ruffles her hair – much to her utter dismay – and, then hands her some juice to drink.

 

"Alright, whilst you two smile and giggle some more?" The extremely witty four (and a half) year old remarks, resulting in two rather blushy men in front of her.

 

Claire giggles, and then quickly grabs Mary's hand. The pair hurry off together, and the last thing that the parents catch within ear shot, is; "hey, you know one time _I_ had a pacifier... Batwoman took it to give to kids who were less brave than me!"

 

Dean coughs once, and then rubs at the back of his neck. "That sure is one hell of an offspring you've got there," he comments, looking at the blue eyed not-so-stranger anymore, beside him.

 

"Hmm, haven't I just?" a proud smile appears upon his face.

 

"No, I'm serious!" Dean adds, tossing his juice box into the nearby trash can.

 

Cas smiles wider, looking over at their two daughters drawing a picture in the sand together. "Thank you," he looks into the eyes of green. "Your daughter has _the_ most adorable freckles... And, well, so do you actually,"

 

A blush creeps upward across Dean's neck, and settles in a rosy shade of pink upon his cheeks. "Your daughter is gonna break a lotta hearts with those eyes.. Taking after her dad," returning the possible pickup line where he can, one of Dean's eyebrows raise.

 

"Who's to say I break hearts? Why can't I just make them skip a few beats?" His words are playful, but he looks somewhat serious too.

 

Dean ponders about how to reply, "well, I mean you certainly seem like the type to cause that."

 

_"Really?"_

 

"I can definitely confirm this, from the ultimate personal experience."

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

 


	8. Destiel College Oneshot.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

The rain batters the windows, and not even Dean's Walkman can drown the sound out. Ripping the wires from his ears, he throws the tacky piece of electrical equipment down onto the desk. Cas flinches from his spot on his bed, looking up at his frustrated friend.

 

"It's been raining forever!" Dean grumbles, pushing his chair backwards. 

 

Cas' ocean eyes flit upwards, watching intently as Dean moves towards the window. He stares blankly at the raindrops running down the glass. "I need a smoke," shoving his hands into his jean pockets, he groans dramatically.

 

"No, you don't. You _want_ one – and, I don't want you to want one," Castiel counteracts, chewing on a string from his hoody.

 

Dean turns around, and rolls his eyes at his roommate. "Please, don't set the smoke alarm off again," Cas' eyes widen, whilst Dean pulls the worn out cardboard pack from his bag.

 

He places the stick inbetween his lips, and glances over to the guy on the bed opposite him. "I'll be back in a few," he smiles smugly.

 

Tightening his grip on his red varsity jacket, Dean heads out of their dorm room. Ignoring the sound of Cas' bare feet padding behind him, he walks towards the door to the stairs – he isn't really an elevator person, _especially_ in a torrential storm. "You'll get sick if you go out there!" Castiel yells after him, grimacing at the cold feeling of the metal stairs beneath his feet.

 

"You'll get sick if you follow me!" Dean calls back sarcastically, rummaging around in his back pocket for a lighter.

 

Their dorm room is only two floors up from the ground floor, so it's not a quick walk downwards. He reaches the front doors, and pushes them open. The sound of rain pierces rushers into his ears, and the gusts of wind immediately engulf him. Cas catches the door before Dean can shut him out, and he does a little dance to try and keep warm.

 

He watches his best friend light the cigarette up, and close his eyes in relief as he slowly inhales and exhales the toxic smoke. The click of the door behind him makes him jump from surprise, and then what happens next startles him even more... The dim lighting from all of the surrounding dorm rooms suddenly disappears, as well as the street lamps that had been flashing on and off. "You gotta be fucking kidding me!" Dean's voice is barely audible over the storm, but Cas can feel his anger.

 

"Power ou – outage?" Cas' teeth chatter, causing his friend to turn and face him.

 

Feelling overcome by the guilt of making the over worried Castiel hurry after him, he drops his cig to the ground. Using the heel of his sneaker to stamp it out, Dean reaches for the door. "Fuck," he cusses under his breath – the door has locked behind them.

 

He moves a numbing finger over to the buzzer button, and jabs at it incessantly. "Come on," making a fist he punches it. 

 

"D – Dean, is it not working?" Cas' arms hug his own body, as he blinks raindrops from his eyelashes.

 

"The power outage must've overridden the system, and messed it up... It'll be on in a second, I'm sure." A small chuckle escapes his lips.

 

The wind latches onto groups of raindrops, sending them lashing towards the concrete building that Dean and Cas are trying to shelter under. A shiver captures Dean's body, as he pulls his jacket closer around his body again. He blinks the rainwater from his eyes, and then moves a little closer to his equally freezing friend.

 

"Sorry about this," the pair of them huddle closer into the corner of the building, eyes meeting.

 

"W – we could always conserve body heat, b – by hugging?" Castiel's eyes dart towards the ground.

 

Expecting Dean to just take his half serious offer as a joke, Cas gasps quietly as he feels two strong arms wrap around his torso. Dean rests his head in the crook of Castiel's neck,many squeezes him tight. "Like this?" His husky voice mumbles into his ear, and Cas isn't sure whether the next shiver he receives is even from the cold.

 

"Y – yeah," he repeats Dean's actions, and then lean's forwards to place his head onto Dean's shoulder.

 

But, Cas' face doesn't reach that far... Unsure of who made the actual move in the first place, he keeps his eyes screwed shut. The feeling of Dean's mouth brushing against his causes him to tense up, but Dean seems relaxed. He pulls Cas closer, by resting his palms against his back, and connects their lips properly. 

 

Castiel plucks up the courage to start to kiss back, and the feeling washes over him just like the rain that spins around his head. Their mouths move in sync, and soon Dean's hands are gripping Cas' face. "Holy shit!" A feminine squeal causes both males to automatically jerk backwards from each other.

 

Their faces are red and flustered from the heat of the moment, but their bodies are soaked through with the rain. They both turn to see that the dorm's lights have come back on, and one of their fellow students is standing at the door. "I knew it!" The redhead claps happily, jumping up and down on the spot.

 

Dean pushes his sodden hair off of his forehead, and then licks his lips. He looks at Castiel, who is panting slightly as his vision bounces from the redhead, and then back to Dean. "Let's get inside," he grabs Cas by the hand, and interlinks their fingers.

 

The warmth hits their faces and feels homely as they step inside, and the girl shuts the door behind them. "My lips are sealed," she grins from ear to ear.

 

Somehow, despite almost catching hypothermia, Cas and Dean's cheeks are both heating up profusely. "Thanks, Charlie." Dean looks at the floor, but despite the butterflies in his stomach, he keeps ahold of Castiel's hand.

 

The girl in her pyjamas skips off down the corridor, leaving the pair standing there. "Dean," Cas exhales, not realising that he'd been holding his breath in the first instance.

 

"Will you help me quit smoking?" Dean blurts out, letting go of Cas' hand.

 

Inhaling shakily, Cas swallows. "On one condition," a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

 

Dean frowns, staring into the eyes of blue in front of him. "You want the hot shower first?" His laughter turns into a shiver, as he scuffs his sneakers along the linen flooring.

 

"If you be my boyfriend."

 

Reaching into his back pocket, Dean's trembling fingers wrap around a soggy cardboard box. He takes it out, and aims for the nearest trash can. "We should probably go get showered," he extends his hand.

 

Castiel doesn't hesitate to take it, and as they walk down the hallway together, he breaks into a smile as he feels Dean press a kiss to his cheek.

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

 


	9. Kindergarten Teacher Cas, and Single Parent Dean.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is Claire's daycare teacher, and one day he has to call her dad because she's sick. Castiel falls head over heels for the hot single dad that turns up to collect her.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

"Hey, Bobby!" Dean hangs up the office phone, calling out to his boss who's taken over the car that Dean had just been working on, until a call came in for him.

 

His boss grumbles something under his breath, and sticks his head out around the side of the vehicle. "Claire's dau are teacher called, she's sick and needs picking up," he explains, rubbing his hands down onto his overalls.

 

"Alright, alright... You owe me one though," he points at the worker, and then turns back towards his office room.

 

"Thank you, I'll bring a six pack for ya!" Dean calls out, hurrying towards the exit of the garage, to the part where the employees put their things.

 

He unlocks his locker, getting frustrated when his greasy hands don't grip onto the number dial. Shoving everything into his worn out duffel bag. Stopping for a second, Dean looks himself up and down. There's not exactly time to change, but he's never gone to pick Claire up in his work uniform before – he makes sure he's washed all of the dirt off his skin, and changed into some smart clothing so that the parents (or teachers) can't judge him.

 

Sighing loudly, he jogs outside to his car. The engine starts up, and he pulls out of the garage. It's only a fifteen minute drive to where Claire attends daycare, so he arrives within good time. Jumping out of the front seat, he pushes the door shut and catches a glimpse of his face in the window – he has a few oil stains on his forehead where he's wiped the sweat with the back of his dirty hand... _Classy._

 

 _"Fuck,"_ Dean grits his teeth, eyeing up his even dirtier, navy blue overalls.

 

He strides up towards the front door of the building, and presses the buzzer with his thumb. After announcing who he is, and why he's come to the place, they let him in. Dean pushes the door open, and then makes his way to Claire's classroom – she's only two and a half, so she's currently in the 'Rosebud's classroom.'

 

He knocks once, and awaits for someone to answer. It's around half past one in the afternoon, so the classroom is fairly empty because of most of the children being asleep. "Hi, Mr Winchester!" The young woman smiles, tucking a strand of copper red hair behind her pierced ear.

 

Dean smiles warmly, stepping inside of the classroom. Feeling slightly anxious about the fact that his combat boots might make a mark on their linen floor, he tries to rub them against his trouser legs. "She's just over there, with Mr. Novak," the woman snaps him out of his stupid little worrying session, and he follows her finger with his gaze.

 

One of the other teachers is sat in the reading corner – one arm gently tucked around Claire, and the other holding a story book – and, her eyes are barely open, as she rests her head upon his arm. Dean notices that they've given her a pacifier, which confuses him a little. Quickly realising that they want him to go over to the pair, Dean steps closer towards the cosy corner.

 

Mr. Novak clearly hasn't noticed the presence of the parent, not until he's standing right above them both. "Daddy!" Claire wriggles out from underneath her teacher's arm, and walks into Dean's open arms.

 

Standing up from his previous crouching position, he picks her up into his arms. Mr. Novak looks up casually at the parent, and then takes in exactly what's in front of him – he's seen Mr. Winchester a few times before, but never in his work outfit. Feeling his cheeks heating up a little as he flattens out his tie, Novak stands up so that he's just a little shorter than Claire's Dad.

 

"Mr. Winchester," the teacher begins, stopping himself from shoving his hands into his pockets out of a usual nervous habit. "Sorry we had to call you away from work, but Claire's fever spiked after we gave her some Tylenol after snack time." He explains, looking sincerely towards the little girl in Dean's arms.

 

"Hmm, I thought she'd last the day," Dean pouts unintentionally – which Mr. Novak finds undoubtedly adorable. 

 

Claire's arms are draped around her Dad's neck, as she snuggles her head into the crook of his neck. Her big blue eyes look at her teacher, who makes a funny face to get her to giggle. "You gave her a pacifier?" Dean's eyebrows raise, and then Novak's facial expression drops a little.

 

"She was very distressed during lunch time, so we took one of our spares out of the cupboard... We know you've only recently started weening her off it, s – sorry," he doesn't mean to stutter, but Dean Winchester is a little bit intimidating.

 

The man's face suddenly softens, causing Mr. Novak to exhale with relief. "It's alright, if she was upset like that.. Was she okay?" Dean holds his daughter a little tighter, using one of his hands to brush some messy blonde hair out of her flushed face.

 

Cas nods, "we took her away from the lunch table, and I sat with her in the cosy corner." The teacher explains, and Dean smiles – Claire seems to really like him.

 

"He let me try on his tie!" The girl exclaims through her pacifier, grinning towards Mr. Novak. Dean's eyes wander to the scruffily tied tie, that has a pattern of multicoloured cats printed all over it.

 

"It's... Very nice," his head cocks to the side a little, as he tries to work out the fashion appeal.

 

Mr. Novak's cheeks seem to go a little pink, so he quickly starts to usher Dean towards Claire's peg. "I hope she feels better soon!" The teacher says, whilst Dean puts her down so that he can collect up her things.

 

"Trust me, she'll probably be running around and destroying my living room by tonight," Mr. Winchester chuckles, as Claire coughs a little – as if just to prove a point.

 

" _Claire?_ Destroy something?" The man acts surprised, looking down at the toddler who has a cheeky look upon her face already.

 

She rubs at her little red nose with the back of her hand, and then walks up to her teacher. "Bye, bye, Mr. Novak!" She grabs his legs tightly, and cuddles them.

 

Dean watches as the teacher crouches down to her level, and gently returns the hug. "Get better!" He boops her freckled nose – something he'd also noticed in her Dad's facial features too – and she giggles again.

 

"Hopefully we'll see you in a couple days again," Dean can't wipe the lopsided smile off of his face... He's never really had the time to pay attention to any of Claire's teachers before, and certainly not the super cute one with the strange taste in ties.

 

"I hope to see you too – uh, I mean – you _and_ Claire," the flustered young man scratches at the back of his neck, standing up so quickly that he gets dizzy.

 

Dean's too busy trying to work out how to carry his daughter as well as her things (why does she insist on bringing a frickin' giant toy unicorn?!), so thankfully, he doesn't really catch what the teacher had just implied. "Bye!" The Winchester calls out, juggling with her unicorn in one arm, his actual child in the other, and then her bag on his back.

 

The woman teacher quickly places her juice cup into her backpack, and Novak hurries over to open up the door. He smiles at Claire just before Dean walks out with her, and just as his woman co-worker turns her back, he could've sworn that the man _winked_ at him... Surely he didn't, _right?_

 

_~*~*~*~_

 

 


	10. New Boy By The Lake.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean lives in a small town, with his Father, and younger brother. He's only nineteen, and without enough money to move out on his own. He hates where he lives, and usually doesn't agree with anything his Father says. So, he often escapes to the hidden lake a few miles from there house... Nobody knows about this place, at least, that's what Dean thought.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

"You literally _always_ dote on Sam! You cone to every school event he does, but when _I_ try and get a job somewhere you don't agree on, you want to kick me out?!" Dean's throat is already growing raw from screaming at his Dad, who's participating in the yelling match just as loudly.

 

The man scoffs at his teenage son, his eyes full of a sense of mockery. "You'll never amount to anything if you want to go and work in a music studio! It's pathetic!" He spits at Dean, who doesn't back down from standing directly in his face.

 

"So, enjoying being in that environment is bad, is it? Enjoying myself isn't allowed now?! What about if I wanted to go to Stanford, would you love me then?!" He feels the irony taste of blood in his mouth from biting his lip so hard, trying to bite back the tears.

 

The words that his Father begins to shouts all blend into one, as Dean tears himself away from the situation. He's gotten violent before, and that really didn't end well. The words bounce off of the denim jacket that covers his back, and he starts to run. He jumps down two stairs at a time, ignoring the stomping of John's (his Dad – who _hates_ it when Dean calls him by his first name) boots causing the worn out wood to physically shake from behind him.

 

Practically yanking the front door off of its hinges, Dean steps outside into the crisp, October air. "That's it, run away from all of your problems and confrontations! Don't come running back anytime soon!" Is the last thing that captures Dean's eardrums, before he's fully out of earshot and around the next corner.

 

Feeling numb inside, and not even realising he forgot to wear shoes, his feet seem to be carrying him to the right place anyway. His brain is pretty much hardwired towards this escape – the hidden lake, just outside of town. 

 

Dean uses the cuff of his denim jacket to vigorously wipe at his eyes, and then he shoves his hands inside his jacket pockets. He doesn't meet any other living thing on the way to his secret safe haven – people don't come out much here, there's nothing to do. A small shiver runs up his spine, as the fallen trees over the entrance to his getaway fill his watery vision.

 

Not caring about scratching his hands on the branches, he uses all of his strength to push some of the twigs and leaves aside. A frown paints upon his brow... Usually, he has to use a lot more energy up to get in here. But, today he barely has to lift a finger. He knows that the last time he was here, he made sure to cover the archway up so that nobody else can discover it. Weird.

 

As he climbs inside the enclosed space, the usually silent atmosphere seems to be disturbed this evening. Dean freezes on the spot, and closes his eyes to listen more carefully. It's barely even audible, but the tiniest mumbling noise is coming from somewhere by the waters edge. Sudden feelings of worry and hesitation wash over the teenager – but, he knows that he can't turn back towards his 'home.'

 

Deciding to confront this stranger who's stolen his solitary confinement, Dean starts walking again. He steps over a few tree roots, and makes sure to push the branches back downwards behind him as he goes. His eyes turn into a squint, as he observes whoever is crouched down by the lakeside. They seem to be of a build that shows them to be of Dean's age. "Hello?" His attempt at calling out is a raspy mess, so he clears his throat and steps a little closer.

 

"You okay there?" This time he's definitely been heard, as the unknown guest on the floor almost jumps out of his skin.

 

The guy stands up straight, and spins around to look Dean in the eye. "Why would you do that to a person?!" He's clutching at his heart, but Dean is distracted by a fair few things – number one; he is a rather attractive looking teenager. Two; his eyes and nose are even redder, and more water than Dean's, indicating that he's been crying for rather a long time. And, three; he's only wearing a short sleeved t-shirt.

 

Quickly giving himself a mental note to stop staring, Dean adverts his eyes to the grassy floor. "S – sorry," he stammers, scratching at the back of his neck.

 

"I didn't realise anyone else came here," the other teen begins to grow self conscious, as he turns back around.

 

He knows that it's no use trying to hide the fact he's upset, so he sits back down with a sigh. The boy throws a nearby stone as far as he can into the lake, and concentrates his stare at the splash. "I didn't know either," Dean admits, taking a seat beside the new comer.

 

"Hm," the guy simply states.

 

"Aren't you cold?" Dean cringes at what a stupid question he'd just asked. He tends to get like this around attractive people. This guy has the most blue of eyes, and he wants to look at them again.

 

An unexpected chuckle escapes the lips beside Dean, and then the guy turns his head towards the blushing individual. "You ask stupid questions," his hand extends out towards Dean's. "I'm Cas," they shake hands, and for some reason Dean gets a tiny swarm of butterflies doing a dance inside his stomach. Or, maybe he's just hungry.

 

"I'm Dean... I'm guessing this is your escape too?" One of his eyebrows raises, as he asks the question.

 

Cas nods once, and then attempts to inhale through his stuffy nose. "I've never been here for this amount of time though, but I can't really go home..." He trails off, and Dean notices him start to pick at his nails.

 

"If it makes you feel any better, we're both sorta in the same boat." Dean's eyes of green meet those of blue again. The blue ones filled with so much sadness, but so much longing to get out of here, and do something more.

 

Cas takes a shaky breath in through his mouth, and then tosses yet another stone into the water. "My parents found out I'm gay," he blurts out to the guy who he's only known for about three and a half minutes.

 

Dean doesn't say anything for quite a while. He wasn't expecting this 'Cas' to be so forwards about his life problems, but he feels an overwhelming sense of empathy towards the fellow teen. "I um," swallowing, he finds himself picking at his own nails. "When my Dad found out I was bi, I think I stayed here for about seven hours."

 

Cas' ocean eyes flit upwards, and see that Dean is staring out at the lake too. "We are k – kinda in the same boat," the chattering of his teeth draw Dean's attention back over to the real world.

 

Feeling his cheeks heat up at what the not-so-stranger shrugging his jacket off, Cas actually smiles for the first time in a long time. "That's very cliche," he giggles, and then claps a hand over his mouth.

 

"My Mom used to teach me to always give my jacket to someone who's cute, and cold," Dean shrugs, and then extends his arm out so that Cas has no choice but to take the garment of clothing.

 

It's a little loose fitting, but it's a nice warmth. It smells of cologne, and Cas could quite easily curl up inside of the clothing, and fall fast asleep right here. "Thank you," he looks up at Dean, who's smiling like an idiot.

 

His smile is contagious, and soon both teenagers are laughing about something they have no idea about being so funny. Cas lies down on his back, and sighs a long sigh. "Have you ever watched the stars here before?" He asks quietly, observing the dusty sky above them.

 

Dean lies down beside him, taking in the clouds – remembering looking for cloud snaps with his brother, and Mom. "Yeah, not to sound cliche again, but the stars are always beautiful out here."

 

Cas turns his head just a little, so that he can take in Dean's side profile. Feeling the pair of eyes against him, Dean turns his own head too. "Ever been kissed out here?" His mouth moves and the words come out before he can stop them, and he sincerely hopes that Cas doesn't notice the bright shade of pink that his cheeks are currently turning.

 

"No," Cas' voice is reduced to a whisper. "But, I'd like to be."

 

The pair are about two centimetres apart, and Dean's eyes have been flickering upwards from Cas' lips of pink, and his eyes of blue, for the past minute. Their fingertips gently brush together, and it's Dean who makes the first move in order to entwine their fingers together. This pulls Cas just that little bit closer, and then each pair of eyes gently flutter closed, as their mouths finally connect.

 

Cas squeezes Dean's hand, and brings his free one up to cup the side of his face. Their lips move in sync, as if they've done this many times before. They even pull away at the same time, and open their eyes to stare directly into the opposite colour. "This is an ever better view than the stars," Dean smirks, but Cas starts laughing again.

 

"Touché." he winks, before leaning in for another warm embrace.

 

~*~*~*~

 

 


	11. The Fear of Flying.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean, Cas and Sam have to travel to the UK together... On an airplane.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

"I really don't see why we can't just drive," Dean grumbles, as he shifts from foot to foot in the queue.

 

Sam ignores his brother, but Castiel frowns in confusion. "We'd drown in the ocean, Dean." He informs, giving the elder brother a worried glance.

 

"Well, why couldn't you just zap us there?!" His voice raises a few octaves, causing some strangers to look over warily at the three giant humans.

 

Castiel sighs – sadly, almost. "I'm sorry, Dean... But, as you know, my 'mojo' is not what it used to be." He air-quotes, and the eldest Winchester groans.

 

They've almost reached the front of the check in queue, and Sam has all of their passports at the ready – he doesn't particularly hold too much trust in his other two companions. "Are you afraid to fly, Dean?" Castiel asks, wondering why Sam has started laughing.

 

Dean, however, snorts dramatically. "Me? Afraid of flying, of all things?! Pfft." He pulls a face. "Nope," shaking his head, he places a hand on Cas' shoulder.

 

"What's so funny?" The confused Angel looks from Dean, – who's laughing dramatically, but has a sense of fake to it – to his brother – who's laughing a more genuine chuckle.

 

"Nothing's funny... You know what is funny though? _Clowns._ " Dean grins, whereas the smile upon Sam's face is wiped right off.

 

The younger sibling glares at his elder brother, but then the movement of the line ahead of them causes a suitable distraction away from an argument. "Maybe we could go to England another day?" Dean suggests, scratching at the back of his neck.

 

"We have no choice, Dean. If we want to get rid of the target marks on our foreheads, we need to go and sort Toni out once and for all." Sam lowers his volume, leaning down so that only his brother and their Angel can hear.

 

Dean mumbles something incoherent back, and then finally the people in front of them leave the check in desk, and they reach the front of the queue. "Passports and tickets, please." The preppy woman smiles widely, and Dean winks at her.

 

Sam rolls his eyes, handing over the three little books. The woman stamps them, and then just as enthusiastically thanks them for flying. "You're _so_ not welcome," Dean mutters under his breath, as they head through the gates at their terminal.

 

When they step outside and into the warm air, Dean's stomach does a mini flip at the sight of the huge metal flying machine in front of him. _How do these things even take off safely?!_ They start to climb up the steps of the plane, and Dean's knuckles are practically white from how hard he's gripping the metal railing.

 

Noticing his discomfort, Cas leans a little closer to him. "Are you alright, Dean?" He whispers, only loud enough for him to hear.

 

A weary nod is his only reply, and then the trio are greeted by another cheery woman – the flight attendant. Sam finds their seats, and then slides across to the window seat. Cas sits in the middle, and then Dean hesitantly takes his seat on the edge of the aisle. He fastens his seatbelt immediately, and then tries to sit back and relax.

 

 _"Great,"_ Sam mutters sarcastically, as a business man takes his seat in front, and declines it all the way back.

 

Dean starts to laugh at his brother's misfortune, but then feels a sharp kick to his back... _"Awesome,"_ he turns around to see two kids and their Mom sitting behind.

 

Sam sends a satisfied smile over to his brother, who flips him off in return. A few moments later their argumentative behaviour is abruptly halted once again, as the plane doors close, and the fight attendant begins the 'what to do in event of an emergency' speech.

 

"Why do they even give this speech? It just makes people feel worse," Dean moans, clutching at his stomach.

 

"I think it's very informative," Cas whispers back, intently watching the woman explain where the exits are.

 

Dean rolls his eyes. "You find pretty much _everything_ informative," he comments.

 

Getting closer and closer to take off, Dean's eyes are glued shut, and he's quietly humming something to himself. "I'm beginning to realise why you guys take the Impala everywhere," Cas leans over towards Sam, and whispers his newfound eureka in his ear.

 

"You think?" Sam replies mid-yawn, relaxing back into his seat and closing his own eyes.

 

"It's strange, Dean did say he _wasn't_ afraid of flying... I'm sensing that he lied?" Cas shoots another question at Sam, who kind of just wants to take a nap.

 

"No shit, Sherlock."

 

"I guess I would make a pretty good detective," Cas smiles – and, if Sam's eyes were open, they would most certainly have just rolled.

 

The sound of the pilot announcing take off fills the passengers' ears, and then Dean grips the arm rest even tighter. "Um, Cas?" He mutters through gritted teeth.

 

"Yes, Dean?" He would've simply looked at the Winchester to show he was listening, but considering that his eyes are so tightly closed, he decided to verbally answer instead.

 

"Could I, um – could I, like..." Before he can continue his sentence, a jolt from the plane cuts him short.

 

The aeroplane is already zooming down the runway, and Castiel feels a sudden touch to his hand. Dean has grabbed it – extremely violently – and, is now squeezing it the way that Cas has seen women in labour grab their husbands' hands on TV. Despite the fact that he's rapidly losing the feeling in his left hand, Cas reassuringly squeezes Dean's hand back.

 

"Why didn't you tell me you don't like flying? I'd have found some other way," he whispers to Dean, who's still concentrated on humming Metallica – Castiel pinpointed it to be one of the regulars he often hears on their Impala rides.

 

"'Cause it's stupid," Dean blurts out, sounding as if he'd been holding his breath.

 

The ding of the seatbelt light even makes Dean physically jump, as he audibly expresses his pain due to his ears popping. "Ow," he brings his free hand up to his ear, and then remembers why he can't use his other hand.

 

Quickly letting go of Castiel's whitened palm, he wipes his own on his jeans. "Sorry," Dean slowly opens his eyes, and tries his best to bring his breathing back to normal.

 

"It's not stupid," Cas wipes his hand down his trenchcoat, and then looks at Dean with such seriousness.

 

Swallowing hard, Dean looks over at Cas. When he says nothing, the Angel speaks up again. "Everyone has fears, Dean. I'd like to help you, if you're feeling scared," he watches Dean bring his hand up to his mouth, and bite at his nails.

 

"Thank you."

 

"Besides, the odds of dying in a plane crash are only –"

 

Dean's breathing starts to quicken again, and then Cas feels a sharp pain in his ankle. "What was that for?" He turns to Sam, who's eyes are now open and giving him a rather judging look.

 

"Please don't quote plane crash statistics to someone who is terrified of flying." Sam whisper-shouts to the Angel next to him, and watches the realisation wash over.

 

"You provide a good point," Castiel turns back to Dean, and places a hand upon his shoulder.

 

"Forget I said anything," he tells him – unable to see the dramatic face palm from Sam, to the other side of him.

 

A few minutes pass, and Dean is trying to ignore the third thump that's affecting his back. He exhales a shaky breath, and then resorts to tapping his foot as well as keeping up with the incessant humming of his favourite band. "Dean, this is going to be a rather long flight... I suggest you try and calm down a little more," Castiel shows nothing but concern for him, but Dean isn't taking it so lightly.

 

"Sammy, make him stop." Dean pauses his humming, and talks somewhat in tune to the song instead.

 

Sam sighs, "so, Cas... Have you ever been to England before?" He changes the subject away from anything to do with Dean's flying anxiety.

 

"No, but I've studied it before. Oh, you know what! I really want to ride the London Eye," he beams suddenly, acting almost as excited as the kids behind them.

 

"We're not really going as tourists though, Cas." Sam points out, but that doesn't dim the spirits of the Angel beside him.

 

Turning back to the elder Winchester again, Cas places a hand to the side of his mouth. "Will you ride the London Eye with me, Dean?" He whispers.

 

"Yes, I'll ride the frickin' Eye of London with you, if it makes you shut up!" He snaps, shakily reaching for the water bottle that's tucked inside Cas' backpack, by their feet.

 

Castiel is slightly taken aback by his tone, but understands the human feelings of anxiety are likely to change a human's mood quite drastically at times. "Just... Stay calm," he helpfully adds, whilst Dean takes a sip of the cool liquid.

 

"I am calm! You stay calm!" Dean takes another three gulps, and then shoves it back in the bag with such force, that the person in front grumbles from the movement.

 

"I'm calm. I've been flying for centuries," Cas answers in such a serious tone that if they weren't on such a busy flight, Dean would probably have hit him there and then.

 

The trio are silent for the next five minutes, and Sam may finally get his nap – despite being squished to the point that his knees almost reach his chin. A sudden, high pitched noise is the first thing to break the previous silence. Castiel looks at Sam, who's snoring softly. He then turns his head towards Dean.

 

"I'm never doing –" the same high pitched squeak interrupts his speech, "– this again! Toni can go fu –" and again.

 

"Dean?" Castiel feels a laugh forming, as he watches Dean try and rant, but instead he's just becoming more distressed and flustered by the strange noise forming inside his voice box.

 

"What?!" He snaps yet again, knowing that later he'll feel bad about acting so rudely towards Cas.

 

"I think you may have drank your water a little too fast," Castiel points out, now realising that Dean seems to have developed a case of the hiccups.

 

Holding his breath, Dean chooses to ignore the Angel stating the obvious right beside him. It isn't until he feels that familiar palm above the top of his own hand, that he stops with the silent treatment. "I'm sorry if I'm not being helpful, it's clear that you're nervous... And, that makes me want to help. I get it, being factual isn't really a help." Cas admits, not moving his hand from its new resting place.

 

"Thanks for trying though," Dean half smiles – the closest he's looked to happiness, so far today.

 

Castiel nods. "It's alright... I could give you another statistic about planes, because you scare the hiccups away – don't you?" His head cocks to the side, but Dean starts to vigorously shake his own.

 

"You know what, actually, I think they've gone!" The elder Winchester chuckles nervously, but then is proved wrong by yet another hiccup.

 

Cas giggles quietly, "I was only joking, Dean."

 

At first the look of anger on his face worries Castiel, but then his expression softens, and he actually begins to laugh. "Okay, well, um... Just – just keep your hand there, and maybe I'll be able to finally calm myself down a little," Dean shrugs, looking at Cas out of the corner of his eyes. Lacing their fingers together gently, Castiel smiles. 

 

 _"Deal,"_ the Angel agrees.

 

~*~*~*~

 

 


	12. Deanmon Dean vs. an Angel of the Lord.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Deanmon!Dean doesn't mix well with an angel... At least, he tries not to.
> 
> Happy birthday Debbie!! This oneshot is for you!

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

It has been two months since that night. That night that Crowley ruined everything. I mean, at least Dean is safe now, inside the bunker with his family and all... But, things just aren't the same. It's hard to keep his temper under control sometimes, and Cas often finds Sam knocked out from exhaustion in the library, just wanting to find some kind of cure.

 

Angels don't really feel emotions – well, they aren't supposed to, anyway. But, some night Castiel finds himself crawling into bed next to Dean – who still sleeps, by the way. He just wants to touch him, hold him. Like they used to... He misses it. He hopes that Dean does too.

 

"Ow, what the fuck?!" A gruff voice suddenly emerges from underneath the previously undisturbed bed sheets.

 

Cas' head snaps upwards, and he realises that he had been lying so close to Dean's face, that a few of his spilt tears started to land upon him. "Cas?! What're you doing?" His eyes fade from full jet blackness as quick as they had turned, and it sends a small shiver down the angel's spinal chord.

 

Dean is now facing Castiel, who's face is tear stained and just about as flushed as a freakin' tomato. "H – hello, Dean." He sniffs quietly, avoiding eye contact for as long as possible.

 

"What're you splashing me with holy water for?! I think it's pretty safe to say that I'm still fully darkside." He grumbles, pushing the covers all the way down the bed, by his feet.

 

At first, Cas frowns. "I wasn't..." His speech slowly trails off, and then a small light inside his brain seems to ding.

 

His calloused hands wipe at his dampened cheeks, and then a small chuckle escapes his lips. The Winchester beside him rubs his eyes, and then fully focuses on the situation in front of him. "Were you... Crying?" He cocks his head to the side – something he has subconsciously picked up from Cas.

 

The Angel immediately shakes his head, despite his sniffling noises, slightly red tinted eyes and nose. "Alright, then..." Dean grunts as pushes himself up into a sitting position, in the bed. "Were you splashing holy water onot my face?" He raises his eyebrows expectingly, and accompanies the expression with a sarcastic half-smile.

 

"I think my tears burnt your face," Cas mumbles under his breath, lowering his head so far down that his chin almost makes direct contact with the area just above chest.

 

Dean has to physically lean practically inches towards Castiel's face, in order to try and catch what he's saying. "You're telling me that your tears are made of holy water?" He snickers a little, and Cas looks up at him.

 

A stern look upon his face, the Angel crosses both of his arms firmly across his chest. "Well, it would surely make sense, right? I am an _Angel_ , after all." He snaps, causing Dean to back off both physically and verbally.

 

He sits in thought for a few moment, the sound of breathing the only thing to be heard. "Why were you crying?" He eventually asks, just as Castiel is about to climb out of the bed.

 

Cas stops right at the edge of the mattress, but keeps his back towards Dean. "Because, I'm sad. That's why humans cry... Isn't it?" The deadpan tone answers tactfully, and the Winchetser promptly submits an eye roll.

 

"I meant why were you sad, – wiseass." A slight scoff on Dean's behalf replies.

 

Castiel chooses to ignore Dean for a few moments. He stands up, and then turns around to face the bed again. "Because, I miss you... I miss _us._ " His voice grows tiny, as he begins to back away to the door.

 

It's unsure of whether or not demons can feel such emotions – despite whether or not they used to be human, once upon a time. But, Dean gets such a surge of guilt and anger at himself, that he jumps out of bed too. The sadness that wells up inside of him seems to be controlling his feet, because now he's walking towards Castiel. His hand grabs at Cas' plaid collar –a shirt that's indeed too big for him, – and it drags him back into the room.

 

"I'd say 'ouch', but Angels don't really feel pain all that much," the sarcasm practically drips off of every word – another thing that he took from Dean, without asking.

 

Dean huffs, and pushes the door shut with one hand. "Could ya stop with the whole 'Angel' emphasising thing, like I'm the worst thing to walk the world? You've worked with Crowley, haven't you?!" The fact that he sounds genuinely offended brings Castiel to stay for a few more seconds.

 

"I shouldn't have," he murmurs, crossing his arms again and staring down at his bare feet.

 

Maybe Dean's human emotions are still there after all. And, maybe they're causing that whole 'mind over matter' or 'trust your heart, not your head' kinda crap... Because, before he can even think twice about the action, Dean finds his arms engulfing the grumpy Angel into a warm hug.

 

At first Castiel's whole body goes rigid and uncomfortably tense, half from surprise, and half from a little fear, I guess. I mean, it is _Dean..._ But, it isn't. You know? "Dean, I should go." Feeling his eyes begin to sting and prick with water once again, Cas attempt at wriggling out of the strong (yet gentle, somehow) grip around his torso.

 

"No. You're gonna get back onto the bed, you're gonna pull the covers over us, and we're gonna cuddle." Dean demands a little unnecessarily loud. "Alright? Like we used to... It's still me, you know."

 

He tries to place two fingers underneath Castiel's chin, and carefully tilt it upwards. But, the Angel flinches away. "Just like we used to?" The hope that laces throughout the whole sentence makes Dean want to clutch his heart.

 

Since when did Cas become so afraid of him? So afraid of losing the Dean that he used to love?

 

"Yeah! I promise I won't go back to black," he bounds towards the bed and jumps on it in one sweep. The sniggering that follows this statement makes Cas wonder what reference he has missed this time.

 

Tentivley following in Dean's footsteps, he gets back onto the bed. When he's close enough to Dean so that they can both pull the covers back over eachother, he feels the warmth of Dean's skin encroaching closer and closer. Then, the tickle of his hair against his cheek, as Dean rests his head upon Castiel's shoulder. "Am I doing it right?" The husky voice mumbles, as an arm draped loosely around the back of his body.

 

But, this time the Angel barely even _thinks_ about flinching. "Mhm," he nuzzles into the crook of Dean's neck. Of course, he's somewhat expecting rejection any second now... The both of them are. But, Dean is cuddling Cas so tenderly – it's as if he's never even hurt a fly. And, Cas is holding onto Dean's hand so tightly, it's like he never even had to let go in the first place.

 

"I still love you," a tiny voice blurts out, causing slight movement besides Cas' shoulder blade.

 

A small pause, "I love you too – haven't you ever heard of 'opposites attract'?" Dean giggles against Cas' ear, and plants a small kiss just below the lobe.

 

"No, actually... Is that on a greetings card?" Cas' brow furrows, and Dean begins to laugh even harder.

 

It's like nothing in the past two months has ever changed.

 

~*~*~*~ 

 

 


	13. The Boating Trip.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Team Free Will decide to take a well earned vacation. And, they feel like going out on a boat... I mean, what could go wrong... Right?

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

"I've never been on a boat before, Dean." The Angel leans towards the man beside him, who's currently unloading a collection of beer coolers from the trunk of the Impala.

 

The trink clunks shut. "Well, there's a first time for everything!" Dean wipes his hands down on his jeans.

 

"The last time you said that to me, was –"

 

"Oh, hey, Sam! How's she lookin'?" The eldest Winchester abruptly stops Cas mid-sentence, as his younger brother is coming their way.

 

The Angel's brow furrows ever so slightly, as Sam leans up against the jet black car beside them. "You mean the boat, or the rather charming OAP who's eyeing you from her camper van, over there?" Sam's eyebrow raises, and a smug smirk plays upon his face.

 

Dean lets out a burst of sarcastic laughter, before plastering a fake smile and waving at the woman nearby. "The boat, asshat." He mutters through gritted teeth, and then picks up two of the beer coolers.

 

"Cas, you take the other one... Sammy, you bring the other bag!" He yells back at the two people behind him, already halfway towards the sea's edge.

 

The trio are now rendezvoused at the water's edge, and Dean is looking at the boat like it's the most beautiful thing in the world (well, _almost._ ) "How did you even get this thing, anyway?!" Sam tosses the bag on deck, and scratches the back of his neck.

 

"Ah, y'know... A friend of a friend, that kinda deal." His brother replies, not waiting any longer to climb up onto the top deck.

 

Sam frowns, "we don't have any friends, Dean." He quips, following after.

 

"A magician never tells his tricks," a smirk shoots back at him, before he turns and holds out a hand for Cas to take.

 

It's only a small ladder to climb, but the Angel's feet are still firmly planted in the sand below the brothers. "You comin'?" Dean's voice eventually snaps him out of his daydream, and he firmly grasps his inviting hand.

 

"Now we're even," Castiel sniggers – but, neither Dean nor Sam have no idea what he's talking about.

 

As Sam starts to withdraw the anchor that's weighing their means of transport down, Dean walks over to where Castiel is intently concentrating on the ripples of waves in the blue. "What do you mean, 'now we're even'?" He uses the air quotes that Cas seems to still be find of, even now.

 

The Angel turns to look Dean dead in the eye, and then his amused facial expression turns serious. "You gripped me tight... and, raised me." He starts to crack up again, but Dean simply face palms himself.

 

"You have gotta stop watching those crappy comedy shows, Cas!" He calls after the bumbling idiot, who's now following Sam over to the front of the boat.

 

Curisosity overwhelms him, as he watches the younger Winchester switch in the engine and start up the boat. It roars to life so quickly that Cas even flinches in surprise. "Well, let's go!" Sam grins, pushing his sunglasses down to cover his eyes.

 

Any cAsha's citizen, or rambling local who happens to be a current onlooker wouldn't think anything of three guys, relaxing and drinking beer on a boat. They wouldn't take a second glance (okay, maybe _some_ would... But, for a different reason all together) at the array of colours on their Hawaiian shirts. But, if you _know_ the Winchesters – if you know their lifestyle – you would not believe what on earth your eyes are supposedly witnessing.

 

Sam takes it upon himself to take control of the wheel, so as they jet out of the bay, Dean heads to lounge around at the back of the deck. Cracking open his first beer, he splays himself out in the sun. "Now this... This is the life, ain't that right, Cas?" The smile on his face is so genuine, but nobody answers to his happiness.

 

Opening one eye, and using his free hand to shield his vision from the sun, Dean looks around for the Angel. "Cas?" He asks again, sitting up this time.

 

He rests his beer on the floor, but then quickly changes his mind as their boat jumps over a rather bumpy set of waves. "I – I don't like being on a boat, Dean." A shaky voice sounds from nearby, so Dean follows the source of the noise.

 

He finds Cas leaning on the wall of the middle part of the boat – it holds the stairs to the lower deck inside. "Why not?" He sips his cold beer, and peers over his sunglasses to try and determine what the matter could be.

 

"I'm not quite sure..." Taking due notice of the pale shade of sickly green his friend is rapidly turning, Dean hurriedly chugs down the rest of his beer.

 

Placing the bottle down gently onto the floor, the eldest Winchester reaches forward and grabs the collar of Cas' shirt. He spins him around in one swift movement, so that now is face is dangling over the edge of the boat. "Why are you trying to throw me overboard?! I'm sorry that I don't like this new experience, Dean. But, don't you think that this is a little bit drastic?!" The Angel squeaks, and tries his best to remove himself from the side.

 

"I'm not trying to throw you overboard," the sound of the engine cutting out temporarily distracts him for a few moments, "but, if you hurl on my shoes... Then, I might."

 

He lets go of Castiel's shirt collar, and watches the Angel turn around to face him. "If by 'hurl' you mean vomit, then I don't think Angels can do so... But –" as the boat abruptly hits another wave, Cas' body is lurched forwards from an inward gag.

 

Dean promptly grabs him once again, and turns him back around to face the side. "Dean, I don't eat anymore! The last time I ate, was... That morning we had pancakes, and you know that I only eat because you go through the effort of cooking for me!" He yells over the splashes that hit the side of the boat every few seconds, and once again fights off Dean's grip.

 

Turning around and brushing himself down, Cas huffs. "I can still get the sensation though," he informs, before walking over to where Dean had been previously sunning himself.

 

"You don't say," he mutters too quietly for anyone to hear but himself, and then joins Cas in sitting down together.

 

The Angel stares down at the deck floor, trying to take his mind off of the rocking boat that they're both sitting on. "If you really don't like it, you can always zap back to the cabin – me 'n' Sammy'll meet you there by sundown," Dean suggests, reaching forwards to retrieve some more beers.

 

Cas shakes his head, and also declines the beer that he's being offered. Dean shrugs, and opens another one for himself. "I want to enjoy this vacation with you, Dean." He protests, taking his pair of sunglasses off of his shirt and placing them over his eyes.

 

A chuckle escapes his partnee's lips, before they part for another sip of beverage again. "Cas, you don't have to like everything that I like... How about we do something that you wanna do tomorrow?" The man smiles thoughtfully, but Castiel doesn't look too convinced.

 

"But, I've never been on a vacation before... I don't know _what_ I'd like to do," he sighs, placing his chin inside of his turned up palms.

 

Sam appears from around the front of the boat, and notices the glum looking Angel beside his brother. "Well, tomorrow I was planning on heading out to explore the history of the island..." He begins, and mentally predicts Dean's reaction before it even happens – dramatically disgusted facial expression, and then a snide comment about how 'nerdy' his little brother is.

 

"Well, I guess it'll just be me 'n' you, Cas... Maybe we could have a day inside," Castiel's eyes glimmer slightly, as he looks into Dean's eyes of green.

 

Sam decides that it may be best to head back around to the front of the boat again, so after grabbing himself a bottle from the cooler, he does just that.

 

"A day together," Cas twiddles his thumbs, and can't help but notice the growing smirk on Dean's face, out of the corner of his eye.

 

"No boats, no Sam... Just me.. and you." His voice grows quieter, as his lips grow closer.

 

Castiel smiles. Maybe this boat ride  _isn't_ so bad after all.

 

~*~*~*~

 

 


	14. Love is...

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

Love is; sharing his ice cream, when the bully knocked it out of Cas' hand on the playground.

 

Love is; sharing his favourite teddy bear with Cas, when he dropped his in a muddy puddle, on the way to daycare.

 

Love is; pretending not to see Cas during their game of hide and seek, because of the adorable grin he gets when their game last even longer.

 

Love is; drawing pictures for Cas on their first day of Kindergarten, to make him feel less nervous.

 

Love is; introducing Cas to his new little brother, and being super proud to be a big brother... But, Cas is an only child. So, love is including him in the family too.

 

Love is; sharing his new pencils with Cas on their first day of elementary school, and complimenting his new, shiny shoes.

 

Love is; inviting Cas to come round his house after school, and helping him out with his homework.

 

Love is; passing notes during class, because they got separated – due to talking too much.

 

Love is; hugging Cas 'thank you', when he waits outside of school for him, after his first ever detention.

 

Love is; being reassured that little Sammy will do just fine on his first day at elementary school.

 

Love is; always staying friends with 'the nerdy kid', despite his growing popularity.

 

Love is; attending every single math competition that Cas is entered in, despite how boring he really finds the subject.

 

Love is; having his heart broken for the first time, and Cas is still there at the end of it all.

 

Love is; sitting on the roof outside of their bedroom windows together, ranting about life and their parents.

 

Love is; consoling Cas as he admits his sexuality, and the first person he tells doesn't judge him one bit.

 

Love is; secretly letting Cas stay in his room at night, when his parents yell at him all day.

 

Love is; holding Cas in his arms until he stops crying, because his parents just don't seem to want to accept him for the true person that he is.

Love is; getting into fights at school, when he overhears people talking shit about Cas.

 

Love is; giving Cas his jacket, when he's shivering because of the cold, and the bullies stole his coat.

 

Love is; their first kiss – at the ages of nineteen – as they sit on the roof, and watch the stars together.

 

Love is; holding hands and striding up to their parents two weeks later, telling them to accept them or they'd leave.

 

Love is; almost getting kicked out of their houses, but getting stuck up for by Sam, and managing to scrape on through.

 

Love is; graduating high school together, and passionately kissing as they throw their graduation caps up into the air.

 

Love is; saving up enough money – from as many jobs as they can find – to leave town together, and buying their first crappy apartment, at the ages of 20.

 

Love is; Cas getting down on one knee – three years later – and, holding up a shiny, silver band, that's just the right size.

 

Love is; Cas crying tears of joy, when he actually says 'yes!' And, the pair of them hugging for so long they almost lose track of time.

 

Love is; walking down the aisle together, reassuring him that his Mom would be more than proud of her son.

 

_Love is; green._

 

_And,_

 

_Love is; blue._

 

~*~*~*~

 

 


	15. Life Lessons 101; Never take first aid advice from the sleep deprived senior.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the Tumblr post; 'today at the park some guy broke his ankle, and one of the people said "give him some lettuce." And, everyone just stared at him for like seven seconds, until he said "I meant ice."

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

There's a cool summer's breeze in the air, and the sound of screaming kids and chattering teenagers are currently being dimly blocked out of Castiel's ears by some calming sounds coming from his Walkman. His back presses up against the nearby tree he's using for shade, and his exposed legs below his shorts hem brush along the cool grass underneath.

 

His backwards cap is covering most of his hair that he didn't bother to brush, but a few tufts stick out of the gap at the front. His face is slightly glazed with the sweat droplets that formed simply from the task of walking out of campus, and to the nearby park. Deciding to work outside today may or may not have been a good idea... But, if he'd stayed cooped up in that stuffy dorm room anymore, he most likely would have drowned himself in his copious mugs of coffee.

 

Just as a new track starts to play in his ears, a sudden panicked buzz of chatter distracts him. He opens his eyes, and shields them from the sun with one of his hands – instead of doing the logical move, of turning his cap back around again. There's a small crowd forming by the area that a few guys had been playing soccer in, and as Cas pulls one headphone away from his ear, he can also pick up some pained groaning noises.

 

Curiosity caught the cat – as they say – because, Castiel finds himself tossing his books aside and actually breaking into a jog to see what was going on. _Of course_ , this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the majority of those soccer playing guys were in fact _extremely_ good looking.

 

The sun-tanned freckled faced member of their group is lying on the floor clutching his rather swollen ankle. His white polo shirt and denim jeans a temporary distraction to the onlooking senior, but his mind soon clicks back into gear. "Get him some lettuce!" Cas blurts out, a tiny frown forming afterwards.

 

The whole crowd – including the injured sportsman, lying on the grass in agony – turn around to stare at the dimwit who just yelled for someone to retrieve the casualty some greens, and Castiel chuckles nervously. He scratches at the back of his neck, and adverts his eyes towards his scruffy combat boots. "I – I meant, some ice." He mumbles quietly, taking his time in looking up.

 

"Dude, I think it's broken..." One of the guys who'd been playing soccer with his friend bends down to take a closer look at the ankle, and his face contorts at the sight.

 

The injured member takes a sharp gasp for breath, and then scrunches his eyes shut tight. "No shit, _Dude._ Now call a freakin' ambulance!" his friend sheepily stands back up again, and then pulls his phone from his pocket.

 

Whilst he begins to talk to an operator, Cas notices the gathering amount of people forming around the poor guy. "Hey! Go back to your fun and games, there isn't anything to see here!" He claps his hands and yells out to the onlookers, who at first don't move a muscle.

 

"You heard the nerd... Beat it!" A much taller, and much more muscular senior shouts over the buzz of chatter, and finally the crowd starts to disperse... Until, the only people left on the grassed area are the six soccer players, one groaning casualty, and one Castiel.

 

Ignoring the tall and intimidating student who's currently snapping at Cas to leave, he sits down beside the rather discomforted owner of a broken ankle. Shrugging off his jacket full of badges and colourful pins, he covers him over with it. "What're you doing?! It's almost ninety out here!" The disgruntled tone almost growls, but he's too busy gripping onto his ankle to actually do anything about it.

 

"Despite my earlier antics, I have actually taken some first aid classes." Cas begins to explain, pressing his index and middle finger firmly to the guy's wrist. "And, I'm making suse that you aren't going into shock."

 

Concentrating on the slightly elevated pulse that he's feeling, he immediately looks up at the 'dimwit' on the phone. "Tell them to hurry – he's showing early signs of shock!"

 

It's barely even five minutes until the bleating sirens roar into the parking lot nearby. Three paramedics come tearing into the park, and take over from where Cas is still sat at their patient's side. "Dean, by the way." He manages to grunt through gritted teeth, just before a small plastic tube is placed upon his lips.

 

"Cas!" Dodging past the paramedic who was blocking his view, Castiel sees Dean manage to nod in understanding.

 

As he continues to take in the painkillers from the blue tube, the paramedics now place a support around Dean's ankle. After sliding him onto a stretcher, they start to walk towards the ambulance.

 

"Wait!" Breaking into a run, Cas catches up with them just as he's lifted through the double doors.

 

One of the men turns to face him, "I need to come too!" He has a habit of blurting things out today.

 

"You family?" The thick Texan accent queries, just as the other two men climb in and continue to check on their newest casualty.

 

"N – no,"

 

"Well, then tough. You can visit him after he's left ER." The gruffness in his voice comes across as somewhat threatening, but this senior isn't giving up _that_ easily.

 

"He's my boyfriend, okay?!" Jumping up onto the step and inside the ambulance, Cas seems to have rendered the man speechless.

 

The sound of slamming doors fills the small compact space around them, and then the sirens tear through the air once more. Castiel is instructed to _'fasten his seatbelt, and stay out of the way!'_ So, he does just that. He listens as Dean groans in pain and then giggles from the effect of the pain relief inside the blue tube. He's also given injected morphine, and after that he's completely lights out.

 

~*~*~*~

 

The wait in the E.R. was the worst. So many things ran through Cas' mind, that he was almost sure that his feet were beginning to ache...

 

... _'I left my books behind!'_

 

_'What if that muscly guy beats me up?'_

 

_'Did Dean hear me pretend to be his boyfriend?!'_

 

"Sir?" a feminine voice snaps him out of his dream world, and he looks up to see a Nurse holding a clipboard against her chest.

 

He doesn't speak, but his eye contact encourages her to go on. "Mr. Winchester is awake now, you can see him." Her smile is warm, and she gestures for Cas to follow.

 

_Mr. Who...? Oh, right. Dean._

 

He's lead down a few corridors, and then through a set of double doors. A few more steps and they stop outside a side room. "He's being kept in a few more hours until the drugs wear off, and then he should be free to go." The woman informs him, and then leaves him to it.

 

Castiel slides the glass door open as quietly as he can, and then he enters the room. Dean is awake and sitting up in bed, but his eyes look glassy and not quite with it yet. "Cas?" Even his speech is still slurred, and his head rolls slightly as he says things.

 

"I – I wanted to make sure you were alright," a small blush creeps its way up to display across Castiel's cheeks.

 

He pulls up a chair, and looks directly into Dean's eyes. They're very green. "I can't feel my foot," the freckle face grumbles, trying so hard to concentrate on moving his toes.

 

"I suspect they numbed it to operate... I wasn't allowed to come in for three and ah half hours, in total." Castiel reads his medical report that's stuck at the end of his bed – it looks like he smashed his ankle (and foot) up pretty bad.

 

Not really paying attention to what blue eyes is saying, Dean stares at his hand instead. "What even happened, anyway?" Castiel speaks again, and this time earns the attention of Mr. Winchester's eyes too.

 

"Well," he begins, holding one finger up in the air. "First we were playing soccer, all nice and stuff... Then this douche comes and makes a bet with us. He tackles me – as your general douche would tend to do – but, as I was trying to tackle back, he stepped on my ankle and took me down, but I guess I landed more funny than he had meant."

 

Cas' eyes widen in shock. "Are you gonna press charges?" He questions, propping up his chin with two hands.

 

Dean shakes his head and shrugs it off. "Nah, anyway... This day kinda has a positive outcome," he lazily rubs his eyes, and then falls backwards into his pillow.

 

"What?" Eager to know before Dean falls back under the spell of the morphine and anaesthetic, he leans forwards so as not to miss a thing.

 

A yawn escapes him, as he rolls over onto one side. Dean's hands are gently propped up against his cheek, and he manages to barely open one eye in order to look at Cas. "I met you, didn't I?" A playful smirk plays upon his face, right before his eyes flutter closed again, and he begins to snore.

 

A huge smile spreads across Castiel's own face. Does this mean that Dean likes him? Like... Maybe, _likes him,_ likes him?! Well, he'll just have to stick around until his newfound crush wakes up again.

 

_Dammit, he's cute._

 

~*~*~*~

 

 


	16. Snow much for a fun winter. Part 1.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel gets a little too excited about the snow outside. He's human now, so these new sensations and feelings are amazing him! But, Dean isn't so happy about it… And, when he wakes up the next day with a head cold, he's even more grumpy than he was before.
> 
> ♥️By; Sam.♥️  
> ♥️Co-written by my smol; Ava.♥️

 

~*~*~*~

 

**_8.27p.m.  
December 14th, 2013._ **

 

  
Castiel stares in awe out of the wide open bunker door. He tightens the woolen scarf around his neck, and then turns around to make sure that Dean is still behind him. “This is so stupid,” the Winchester grumbles, shoving his hands deep into his jeans pockets.

 

“Why is snow stupid?” Cas cocks his head to the side, and rubs his gloved hands together.

 

Before Dean can even try to explain things to the overexcited man, he's already run off. Following reluctantly behind, Dean pulls the door shut as he steps foot into the crunchy snowflakes underneath him. The air is crisp, and it bites at the bare skin on his exposed face.

 

“It's freakin’ cold out here!” He yells over to Cas, who's literally just dropped to the floor in order to make a snow Angel.

 

Quickly jumping up and admiring his work, Cas grins the cutest little grin. Even Dean smiles a little at this, but he backs away as Castiel comes bounding towards him. “Dean, let's have a snowball fight!” His eyes are wide with happiness, and his nose is turning red.

 

The elder Winchester raises an eyebrow, and tightens his winter coat. “Do we have to?” He groans, but apparently the fight it already happening.

 

Cas grabs a ball of snow, and then tosses it over at Dean – well, it was supposed to be aimed at him, anyway. “You're a lousy shot,” he chuckles, bending down to retrieve his own cold weapon.

 

The pair throw snowballs back and forth for what seems like hours. The snow finally stops talking out of the sky by half past nine, and they fall onto their backs, fully out of breath. “Let's m – make hot ch – chocolate,” Cas’ teeth chatter together violently, but he still can't wipe the smile off of his chilled face.

 

Dean helps him up out of the snow, and then they both lean on each other as they stride back towards the front door of the bunker. Kicking the snow off their boots, and unravelling their extra layers of clothing, Dean and Cas hurry into the kitchen. “We should have hot showers first – I'll switch on the hot water,” Dean suggests, rolling his eyes as he notices Cas eating the tiny marshmallows meant for their hot chocolate.

 

He nods, and then finds two mugs from the cupboard. Dean boils some milk in a pan, and Castiel finds great joy in tasting the cocoa powder straight from a spoon. They sip their beverages snuggled under a blanket together in Dean's bed, and despite their spiky wet hair and shivery bodies… They've never felt so warm inside.

 

“Alright, I’m gonna go shower,” Dean is the first to stand up – not realising that Cas had dozed off beside him, upon his shoulder.

 

Snapping himself awake from the sudden jolt of movement, the former Angel rubs his eyes. “Me too… I guess,” he uses his tongue to dispose of a stray bit of whipped cream, and then stretches himself out in a lazy manner.

 

They go their separate ways, and have a small kiss goodnight first. Once they've both enjoyed a hot (well, semi-hot, because most of their hot water got used this morning – Sam left to go and find something out on a case, meaning he needed a very long shower beforehand… Of course.) shower, they both roll into bed and practically fall straight to sleep, as soon as their dampened heads hit the pillows.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**_9.29a.m.  
December 15th, 2013._ **

 

  
A dull ache distracts Dean from a dream, and then he tries to inhale through his nose, and fails. Feeling an itch, he reaches up to scratch it… But, is met by a sneeze instead. Due to this sudden action, his body tumbles downwards in a tangle of his duvet. And, Dean meets the floor with a loud thud.

 

“What the fuck?” He groans, rubbing the sore patch on his head.

 

The next thing he hears is the smoke alarm in the kitchen peeping at a shrill volume. Not again. He climbs out of his duvet, and winces at the pain in his joints. _What was he doing last night? All he did was mess around in the snow…_

 

Staggering into the kitchen with half-asleep eyes, he's engulfed by a small cloud of smoke. “Did I wake you?” Cas coughs, attempting to wave the smoke away with a burnt up oven glove.

 

Dean shakes his head, and sits down at the breakfast table. “I was trying to make you some pancakes,” the Angel continues to grumble, whilst angrily discarding of the charcoaled contents of the frying pan into the trash.

 

“Sorry.” He slides into the seat opposite Dean.

 

The Winchester rubs his tired eyes. “I'm not that hungry anyway,” he massages his pained head.

 

“Hey, Cas?” He looks up suddenly, catching the attention of the ocean eyes before him.

 

The Angel tilts his head to the side – one of Dean's favourite habits that he holds. “Yes, Dean?” His mouth curves upwards into a tiny smile.

 

“Since, you're like… Kind of human now… Does that mean you can get sick?” Dean tries his best to speak without drawing attention to the thick nasal sound that's developing.

 

Castiel pauses for a moment, or two. “I guess so, but, I only really spend time with you or Sam. You guys never get sick,” he shrugs. “Why?” He then questions, feeling confused by Dean's random question.

 

“No reason,” he starts to cough. “I'm just gonna go shower… This smoke has gotten all over my clothes,” he waves the air, and then stands up from his chair.

 

Hurrying out of the room, Dean makes his way to the shower. The steam that engulfs him for the next half an hour is soothing for his sinuses, but once he gets out he's all stuffed up again. Great.

 

He dresses himself in a pair of deep blue jeans, and buttons up his purple and blue flannel. Since he's feeling cold, he pulls on a black shirt underneath it first. “Dean?” He jumps at the voice outside his door, and clears his throat before replying.

 

“Yeah?” He puts on a pair of socks.

 

“Are you okay?” Castiel has worry laced inside his tone, but Dean doesn't want a fuss, out of all things.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine, why do you ask?” Dean struggles to keep his voice at a normal tone. He survived the apocalypse, he can survive a cold.

 

“How are you feeling?” Castiel wouldn’t let it go.

 

“I said I’m feeling fine,” Dean says, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He doesn’t mean it, but it comes out anyway. He winces at himself, hoping Cas wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

 

A silence engulfs the two for a moment before Castiel speaks again. “Okay,” he says.

 

Dean looks at himself in the mirror for a moment before exiting the bathroom into his room. When he opens the door, he doesn’t see Cas. This strikes him as strange, but he ignores it and goes over to the bed to put on the shoes he had previously placed next to it.

 

Just as Dean was standing up from the bed, he heard loud footsteps in the hallway. Before he can move to see whats going on, the ex-angel is standing in front of him.

 

“Dean,” Castiel says.

 

“Cas, if you-” Dean starts, but is cut off by the other man placing his hand on Dean’s forehead. Dean pauses for a moment, looking at Cas’s hand, then his concentrated face.

 

“What are you doing?” Dean asks. Castiel keeps his hand there for another moment before placing his arm by his side again.

 

“I read on the internet that you need to put your hand on someone's forehead to see if they were sick.” Castiel says matter-of-factly, his face concerned.

 

Dean pauses at a lack for words. “Um, _and?_ ” he says.

 

“You’re ‘ _burning up’._ We need to get you to a hospital.” Cas explains, grabbing Dean’s arm.

 

“Whoa, whoa whoa whoa slow your roll, Cas. It’s a cold, alright, I’ll live,” Dean says, resisting Castiel.

 

“But you’re sick,” Cas continues. “Did I do that?”

 

“No, no, it was probably the cold yesterday or something. Listen, it's nothing. Now can we please just-”

 

“But I made you go outside.”

 

“Cas, it doesn’t matter, okay? Let's call Sammy and see how the hunt is going,” Dean says. Cas looks down and ponders before nodding.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**_1.00p.m.  
December 15th, 2013._ **

 

It’s been an hour since Cas left the bunker claiming he needed to ‘go out and get some things’ and Dean is starting to worry. The angel never does things like this, especially now.

 

Dean’s headache not making the situation better, lying down, he decides, would be the best option. He already had tried Cas’ cell phone several times and he wasn’t picking up any time soon.

 

Just as Dean was making his way towards his room, he heard a door open. “Cas?” he yells. There was nothing but a rustle of movement for a moment before Cas pops his head out.

 

“Hello, Dean,” he says, making his way towards him.

 

Dean’s eyes gravitate to the five or six bags Castiel holds in his arms. What could be in them is beyond him.

 

“Sit down,” Castiel orders. Dean hesitates but complies anyway, mostly out of curiosity, sitting down at the table.

  
  
“Cas, what’s this all about?” Dean asks. Cas lays out all of his bags on the table, peeking into them. He grabs a small package made of plastic first, and tries to rip it open. Dean watches him for a moment before asking. “Do you want some scissors?”

 

Cas drops the package on the table and looks at Dean. “That would be helpful, yes.”

 

Dean shakes his head before heading over to a drawer and grabbing the scissors from them. He walks over to Cas, scissors in hand, wondering what all of the commotion is about. Cas turns around and his eyes light up at the sight of the scissors.

 

Before Cas can take them, Dean pulls them back. “Maybe _I_ should do it.”

 

“Dean, if I can use an angel blade, I can use scissors,” Cas says, startling Dean with his tone.

 

“Well alright,” Dean says, handing over the scissors. A part of him still doesn’t trust it, but he’d better let Cas learn.

 

Dean went back to his chair while Castiel went to work on the plastic packaging. Turns out, he isn’t too bad with them after all. The man-child looks pleased with himself as he pulls out a small thermometer.

 

“Whoa, Cas, at least buy me dinner first,” Dean says, eyeing the device.

 

“It’s going to take your body temperature. You can take it orally or-”

 

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Dean hurries him. “Look, Cas, this is nice, but I really don’t need any of it.”

 

“Put this in your mouth,” Cas says, ignoring everything Dean had just said. He proceeds to pull out a bottle of medication from another bag. “Take two of these. That's what the man at the counter told me.”

 

“It’s just a cold. It’ll be gone by tomorrow,” Dean says. Cas continues to ignore Dean as he walks around to the side of the table and dumps out the rest of the bags’ contents.

 

Dean spots a head massager, a heating pad, two boxes of nasal strips, five boxes of tissues, a car magazine, some cans of soup, and several other items.

 

“The man told me to get these. Except for the magazine. I picked that out myself,” Castiel says with a big smile.

 

Dean sighs. It's like the Angel is ignoring every word that he's trying to tell him. “Thanks for the magazine, but I'll pass on the rest of the stuff.” He swipes the reading material from the table, and plans to head back to his room.

 

He can hear the muffled footsteps of Cas right behind him, but as of now the Winchester chooses to simply ignore it. As he swings open the door to his room, he turns around so quickly that it startles Castiel.

 

“Dean,” he begins, already growing tired of his stubborn behaviour. He doesn't understand why the guy won't just get some rest, and accept the offer of being waited on hand and foot.

 

The stubborn idiot folds his arms tightly across his chest. “Cas,” he mimics sarcastically back to him.

 

“I’m just trying to-”

 

“I know what you’re trying to do Cas, and thank you, but I don’t need it, okay?” Dean says. Castiel stands for a moment, looking down and shuffling his feet before looking back at Dean.

 

“Fine,” he says, the disappointment in his voice very evident to Dean.

 

“Thank you,” Dean says, walking into his room.

 

He sits down on his bed, adjusting himself so he’s up against the headboard so he can read the magazine Cas got him. It was a sweet gesture, he has to admit, but I really am fine.

 

A few pages into the magazine, Dean hears footsteps in the hallway once again. He turns to the doorway to see Cas, holding a plate.

 

“I made you a sandwich,” Cas says with a smile. Dean smiles back and takes the plate, setting it down in his lap.

 

“Sweet, thanks,” he says, the ‘thank you’ sincere this time. He takes a bite before looking back at Cas. “For future reference if you ever want to make me feel better, this is the way to do it.”

 

Castiel stands awkwardly in the doorway for a moment or two before exiting, leaving Dean to his sandwich and magazine. As much as he hates to admit it, if the pampered life is like this, he can probably get used to it.

 

Dean finishes off his sandwich quickly, as if he hasn’t eaten for a thousand years. He suddenly starts to feel bad for Cas. He’s only trying to help Dean. He can’t shake the guilty feeling as he flips through the magazine.

 

When he’s about halfway through, he yawns. _He’d slept longer than usual, why’s he suddenly so tired?_ Dean rubs his eyes, blinking them a couple of times to hopefully stop the wave of sleepiness.

 

After a moment, the heavy weight of his eyelids become too much to bear for Dean. Giving in, he closes his eyes.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**_6.15p.m.  
December 15th, 2013._ **

 

Dean wakes up groggily, yawning and stretching his arms. There’s a warmth spreading through his head that feels good but foreign to him. He opens his eyes to see Cas sitting next to him on his bed.

 

“You’re awake,” Cas says, seeming pleased.

 

Dean looks up at him, squinting through the dark… He was sure that he left the bedside lamp on. “What just happened?” His voice is scratchy.

 

“Do you want some tea?” Castiel asks – completely ignoring Dean's confusion.

 

“Did you… Did you drug me?” He rubs his head, and tries to sit up. A wave of dizziness rushes over him, causing him to fall back down again.

 

Cas removes the heating pad, and then places a thermometer in his mouth. “I guess those cold and flu pills cause more drowsiness than they say on the packet,” he shrugs casually.

 

“I told you, I don't need any medicine!” He attempts at raising his voice, but it's a rather pathetic attempt at best.

 

“They should be wearing off soon though,” the Angel continues to ramble.

 

 

A dramatic sigh escapes Dean's mouth. He climbs out of the other side of his bed, and marches out of the room. He's had enough of being babied, and he's going to watch a movie. By himself.

 

Getting comfy on the couch is a hard task when you ache all over, and then when a certain Angel sits down next to you… It makes it a whole lot harder. “Hey, I don't think you'll like this movie.” He tries his best to subtly tell Castiel that he's not wanted here, in this present moment.

 

Squinting his eyes, Cas’ facial expression eventually drops. “Do you want me to go away?” He drops the two boxes of tissues that were previously held in his hands, onto the floor.

 

Dean bites on his bottom lip, and then brings himself to look at Cas. But, he's already halfway towards the door. Before he can even think about calling after him, the Angel has slammed the door shut behind him. Great, now he's mad.

 

Putting on one of his usual action movies that he pretends to love, Dean settles back down on the sofa again. He can barely concentrate on the TV screen though, because his head hurts and his ears are blocked, and he can barely even hear the freakin’ thing over his snuffled breathing. All of a sudden he starts to feel about five times worse than he already did, and he just wants to apologise to Cas.

 

Angrily switching off the TV, he tosses the remote to the side. Rubbing at his _(still)_ tired eyes, the Winchester makes his way back to his room. He plans to lie there and feel sorry for himself, without anyone to fuss over him… Although, he did kind of like the feeling of that heat pad.

 

His head touches the middle of his door, as he barely puts any effort into twisting the handle. Just as he steps foot inside of his bedroom, a loud noise distracts him from his calling bed – his phone is vibrating across the bedside table. Noting the caller ID, he clears his throat and prepares to sound ‘fine’ again.

 

“Hey, Sammy!” He greets a little too happy go lucky, towards his brother.

 

But, he fails to hear the reply, as he is caught by surprise by a sudden sneeze… And, another. “Dean?” Sam’s voice calls out from the phone, that has just fallen to the ground.

 

Before he can reach down to pick it up, somebody's hand appears before him, and takes it instead. Their other hand passes him a box of tissues, and their voice mutters “bless you,” and then they start to talk on the phone.

 

Dean gives in, and cuddles up inside his duvet. He listens to Castiel telling Sam that the phones have been acting weirdly around here, and that it was him that answered, not Dean… And, that the line broke up. Their call lasts a few minutes, and then the Angel bids the younger Winchester _‘goodbye.’_

 

Scrunching his eyes shut as he hears Castiel hanging up the call, he then feels the weight of his body sitting down on the edge of the bed. They sit in silence – minus Dean's incessant sniffing noises – until Cas clears his throat. “Sorry for overcrowding you earlier,” he murmurs quietly.

 

Dean feels Cas’ hand hovering nearby his own. “No, _I'm_ sorry.” The Winchester adds, and opens his eyes. “I was acting rude, for no reason.” He admits a little sheepishly, but then has to dodge away from Cas in order to sneeze… _Again._

 

“Bless you,” the Angel hums for a second time, and then chuckles at the look of annoyance on Dean's face.

 

“You can overcrowd me now,” he sinks further down the bed, with only his head showing out of the duvet. Cas runs a hand through his bed-hair, and smiles.

 

His finger boops the red nose below him. “You're cute,” he admires.

 

~*~*~*~

 


	17. It's Halloween!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Imagine Dean and Cas always wear couple costumes on Halloween, but it’s never planned.“ - mishtiel, on Twitter.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Another year flies by, another Halloween pops up. Which also means, another stupid frat party for the 'spooky holiday.' Castiel loves Halloween – it's always been his favourite holiday (next to Christmas), since he was a little kid. He went trick or treating until he was too old to be doing so, and he always decorated his house. Now, everything is the same, but the trick or treating is replaced with their annual college fancy dress party, and the house decorating is swapped for his dorm room.

 

Dean loves Halloween too – well, he loves the parties. He'll usually attend them for the free booze, and the beautifully dressed up girls. They like to keep their outfits skimpy, to say the least.

 

The pair both attend the same college, and also attended the same high school. And, _this_ is where the problem lies. Every single party they've both been to at the same time – for the past five years – without fail, they've turned up dressed as a couple. Never planned, and always super awkward.

 

2011 - Dean dressed as Shaggy, and Cas was Scooby.

 

2012 - Dean was a spy, and Cas was an assassin.

 

2013 - Dean went as James Bond, and Castiel went as Q.

 

2014 - Dean was a cop, and Cas was a robber... You can imagine the jeers that they received _that_ evening.

 

And, last year the both of them thought they'd had the best idea. Nobody would even _think_ of this idea. Dean went as Sherriff Grimes, from the walking dead. You know what Cas went as? A freakin' zombie.

 

So, of course this year this will _not_ happen again. They've been planning their outfits ever since the last time they so embarrassingly clashed, and it's for sure that it won't ever happen one more time.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**_October 31st, 2016._ **

**_8.22p.m._ **

**_Charlie Bradbury's Dorm._ **

 

"Charlie, do you really think this doesn't look stupid?" Dean dramatically rolls his eyes, giving her an unenthusiastic twirl.

 

She laughs out loud, looking his costume up and down in delight. "Nobody will dress like this, it's so 2001!" She reassures him, a sly grin trying its best to simmer down upon her face. "Zip me up, would ya?" She asks, turning around so that he can come and sexude her Cat Girl jumpsuit.

 

"Well, I feel like I look like a kid." He huffs, readjusting the cowboy hat upon his head.

 

His boots clunk along the hardwood floor of her dorm, as he walks over to help her out with her costume. "You look great, now shush!" Charlie finalises, bending down to zip up her high heeled boots.

 

"You are going to have a crowd tonight," the Winchester winks at his best friend, who reaches out to hit him, but almost trips in her heels.

 

He chuckles at her clumsiness, and then sits down at her dressing table. His old fashioned jeans are a little too tight at the top, and the way that they flare at the bottom makes him feel like he's time traveled back to the 80's. The white shirt has embroidered patterns all underneath the collar, and the strings from his deep brown cowboy hat rest upon his chest. "I look like a true Texan," he mimics a faux accent, and laughs to himself.

 

"Right, I'm glad you've finally accepts your appearance... Can we get going now?" The redhead titters impatiently, already grabbing her handbag and making a beeline for the door.

 

"Please, do not break your neck tonight." Dean says under his breath, hurrying over to dat her when one heel gets stuck on a piece of uneven wood beneath it.

 

Charlie giggles, and holds onto his arm. "Oh, Mr Cowboy, you're so strong!" She can't keep a straight face for long enough, and Dean ignores the way that his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**_October 31st._ **

**_8.07p.m._ **

**_Castiel Novak's Dorm._ **

 

 

"I'm not so sure about this, you know." Cas sighs, staring at his reflection in the mirror on the wall.

 

A girl with jet black hair looks over at him, and rolls her eyes at the unneeded fuss. "Look, I already told you... I checked with everyone that I know, and there's no plans for Cowboys!" She says encouragingly, whilst tying her hair into pigtails.

 

"But, Hannah –" 

 

"No but's, no if's... No nothing's! You're going to be the only Cowboy there, and then you're going to thank me for it." She smiles, flicking his foam hat that rests on the top of his messily styled hair.

 

The nineteen year old sighs, but stops protesting. He pulls on the pair of brown, leather cowboy boots, that are positioned beside his bed. "As long as you haven't bought me a horse," he mutters in a joking way, walking over to where Hannah is finishing applying her red and blue eye makeup.

 

"Harley Quinn, and a Cowboy," the girl laughs. "To the batmobile!" She punches her first outwards and into he air, and Cas shakes his head at her actions. 

 

"Harley doesn't drive that car," he mumbles, unsure of whether or not Hannah is ignoring his correction, or if she simply can't hear him.

 

It's only a ten minute walk across campus, to find the block of dorms that are holding the party for tonight. The whole building is decorated with fake spider webs, and the trees nearby have already been strewn with toilet paper. Cas feels a warm sense of nostalgia, as he takes in the whole thing. The only difference from his childhood is the deafening pop music, and the copious amounts of alcohol that are sure to be inside.

 

"Okay, the plan." He states, making sure to speak directly in front of his friend's face.

 

"The plan," she repeats. "What is that again?" Cas looks frustrated, but then her serious facial expression creases into a chuckle.

 

"I'm kidding, chill." She rests a hand on his shoulder, which has fringed material coming down from the pads on his jacket.

 

Castiel's ocean eyes roll, " _haha,_ very funny." He remarks, with extra sarcasm involved.

 

He watches on, as Hannah walks inside the crowded party arena. Once she's dissapeared behind a couple who are practically eating each others faces off, he can relax a little.

 

_**Meanwhile...** _

 

"Okay, remember the plan?" Dean rubs his chilly hands together, blowing on them as if it'll make any kind of significant difference.

 

Charlie twirls a strand of deep copper hair around her freshly manicured finger. "Yes, I'm going in..." She makes a pretend gun from her fingers, starts to walk towards the doorway to the party.

 

Her eyes dart towards a nearby tree, where someone is wearing a rather similar hat to someone else that she knows... _Crap, not now._ Charlie looks back to where Dean is impatiently pacing on the spot, and she bites down on her bottom lip. She can't risk catching his attention and the other person of interest at the same time – so, she risks it, and just goes in.

 

Her emerald eyes scan the crowded room, full of ghosts, ghouls and other strange beings. Finally, they see exactly who they came in here to see. "Hannah!" She raises her voice above the music, but has to yell even louder to catch the attention of 'Harley Quinn.'

 

A grin spreads over her face, and she comes bounding over. "Did you do it?!" The black haired girl emphasises her words in order to be heard, and Char scoffs.

 

"Of course I did!" The girls both giggle, and then proceed to expertly high five eachother.

 

"Mission Brokenack Mountain is go," Charlie says close to Hannah's ear, and the girl smiles eagerly.

 

"And now... We wait."

 

~*~*~*~

 

"She should be back out here by now..." Dean sounds worried, as his head snaps upwards towards the door – nothing.

 

He stamps his foot onto the sidewalk below his Cowboy boot. Just as he's about to walk inside the party and find his best friend by his damn self, he hears another student yell for "Cas!" Dean spins on one heel, and settles his eyes on a sight of dismay.

 

"Nice costume!" Castiel's fellow classmate compliments, and then Dean starts walking towards him.

 

"Oh no," Cas grimaces. _This can't be happening. Not again._

 

"This better be some kinda joke, Novak." He snaps, folding his arms tightly across his puffed out chest.

 

Castiel laughs at such a statement. "You think I did this on purpose?!" He begins, but their speech overlaps eachother as they start to argue.

 

Dean's brow furrows. "Wait a second, did you just say that Hannah told you she'd already checked out other people's costumes...?" He kisses his teeth, and all of a sudden everything makes sense to him. How the hell had he not seen it before?!

 

"D - Did you say that Charlie basically did the same thing for you?" Dean nods, and Castiel's bright blue eyes get wider, and then a look of angry and betrayal paints across his face.

 

They're both overwhelmed with sudden realisation, and then Cas starts to chuckle. "Weird prank, considering you're – uh – not into, uh, guys?" He scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck, wondering if this sounded stupid.

 

Dean looks awkward, and he starts to clear his throat a lot. "You are though, right?" He shrugs nochalatnly, scratching the tip of his nose.

 

Novak feels his cheeks heating up. He's always been fairly open about his sexuality – well, most of the students now know anyway, after he got a little too drunk at gay pride, and ran shirtless through campus, yelling something about it 'being a beautiful, rainbow filled day to be hella damn gay!' _He isn't a major in Literature for nothing, you know._

 

"Yes," he keeps his answer simple, with one word only.

 

Taking a slow and steady intake of breath, the Winchester looks directly into Castiel's eyes. "Maybe this is a sign... Wanna grab a burger? Off campus, just us." Almost choking on his saliva at such an offer, Cas feels Dean smack him on the back.

 

He's unsure of Dean's intentions, but to him it sounds like his crush of six years is asking him out. Yes, Cas has crushed on the guy for a damn long time... But, one – he assumed, before now, anyway – that he's straight, and two he usually has a girl attached to his arm.

 

Tapping the sole of his Cowboy boot impatiently on the ground, Dean's green eyes roll. "Fine, does this give you enough insentive?" He cups Cas' jawline, and lowers his face close enough so that their lips brush against eachothers.

 

They kiss for less than a minute, and Castiel has only just let his eyes flutter closed after the intermediate reaction of shock has settled down, when Dean pulls away. He smirks playfully, wiping the edge of his mouth with his jacket sleeve. "Well?" He hasn't wiped the smirk away.

 

"Let's go get that burger," Cas grins widely.

 

~*~*~*~

 

 


	18. Snow much for a fun winter. Part 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Co-written by Ava.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**_7.30a.m.  
December 16th, 2013._ **

 

 

Sam pulls up to the bunker, deadly tired from the night he’s had. He lazily slings his bag over his shoulder, heading up to the door.

 

Upon walking in, he doesn’t hear anything. No voices, no TV, nothing. But what he does see, is a pile of bags and it looks like a CVS threw up all over their table.

 

“Dean?” he calls out, now at the table, shuffling around different objects. He decides to go down the hallway to Dean’s room to see if he’s asleep, which he probably is at the bright and early hour of 7 am.

 

“Dean, what’s with all the-” Sam’s sentence is cut short by the sight of Dean in Cas asleep together in his bed, Cas’ arms around Dean. Sam smiles, seeing his brother looking so happy. Ever since him and Cas became a thing, he’s seemed to have lost some of the darkness he’s been carrying for far too long.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**_12.00p.m.  
December 16th, 2013._ **

 

 

Dean wakes up next to Cas who’s still sound asleep. It almost pains him to wriggle out of his arms, but he does so anyway.

 

Standing up, he still feels the pounding in his head. His breathing wasn’t any better either, possibly worse. His gray robe hangs on the door, so Dean puts it on, trying to overcome the bone chilling cold he’s experiencing. He matches it with slippers, stepping his bare feet into the fuzzy material.

 

He can’t help but look over to Castiel’s sleeping face and smile. He looks like a child when he’s asleep, he thinks. He even looks like a child when he’s awake. He flashes back to the other day when the two of them were playing around in the snow. While looking like idiots being grown men, he had a lot of fun.

 

When Dean makes his way to the table, he’s shocked to see his little brother sitting there. Sammy’s nose in a book as always, but this time he’s asleep. Full on snoring, with his laptop still open next to him.

 

“Sammy?” Dean says, louder than intended.

 

“What?” Sam says suddenly, jumping up from the book as if he was already awake. “Dean! I was just, um…” Sam continues, looking around.

 

“Doing research?” Dean helps Sam out. Sam nods, looking down at his books before looking back to Dean.

 

“Yeah. So, how’ve you been since I left? How’s Cas doing?” Sam asks, trying his best to act like he isn’t completely sleep deprived.

 

“I’m good, Cas is good.” Dean says, leaving out the fact that he’s sick.

 

“That’s good. How’s human life treating him?” Sam asks Dean. Dean ponders for a moment, walking over to sit down across from Sam at the table.

 

“Alright, I guess. He’s very fascinated by snow. A little too fascinated.” Dean says, earning a chuckle from Sam. “How’s the hunt going?”

 

“Good, but I could use your help actually. Whatever this is, it takes its prey in threes.” Sam says. Dean raises his eyebrows which hurts his head but he doesn’t say anything.

 

“I could use a good hunt,” Dean says. Sam smiles at Dean, once again proud of the progress Dean has made. A year ago if they were having this conversation, Dean would usually be drinking. Now he seems content with just a couple of days with Cas. He wishes Dean and Cas could live a normal life. Apple pie, white picket fence, the whole nine yards. But Sam knows deep down that that’s unlikely for either of them, and it pains him to think about.

 

“Yeah,” Sam says.

 

Dean gets up and crosses to the drawer where they keep their paper and writes a quick note for Cas saying he’s gone out and to not worry about him. He doesn’t mention where he’s going because, well, first off he doesn’t really know, but he knows if he told Cas he’d follow him. And he doesn’t need to worry about protecting a human Cas while on a hunt.

 

Dean quickly places the note on the table labeled ‘Cas’ on the front, then turns to leave the room.

 

“I’m gonna take a shower first!” He calls to Sam – hoping that he didn't notice the hoarseness.

 

Thankfully, it seems like the youngest Winchester is too tired to pay enough attention. “Sure,” he hears a voice mumble back, and then the scraping of a chair along the wooden floor.

 

Dean tip-toes past his bedroom – the sound of Cas still snoring drifting behind him. Thankfully, there was a pile of clean laundry by the utility room (he lacks the effort of putting stuff away, after Sam's washed it.) Grabbing a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, he heads off in the direction of the bathroom. Once he's showered, he feels a little better. At least he can somewhat breathe now. He wanders back through the hallways, and then stops outside of his room – crap. His duffel bag is still in there.

 

Literally holding his breath, he then carefully clicks open the door. Cas is cuddling the pillow that Dean was lying against earlier, and this brings a small smile to his face. As he's walking over to his duffel bag – that's strewn not-so-neatly by some of his shoes, – he feels a harsh shiver overwhelm his body. Frowning, Dean looks in one of his drawers for something to wear over his tee… Ah, a grey hoodie. _Perfect._

 

Before leaving the room, he takes one more look back at Cas. The feeling of wanting to snuggle up and fall back to sleep with him is strong, but when he hears Sam calling his name, he quickly leaves. He shuts the door quietly behind him, and then slowly makes his way to the front door.

 

Sneakily taking a detour into the kitchen, he tosses some of the medicine that Cas had bought for him yesterday, into his bag. As he's shoving a few boxes of tissues in too, he hears thudding footsteps coming up behind him.

 

“You ready?” Dean hears Sam ask. Dean quickly shoves the medical supplies away from him, pretending to fuss with his bag.

 

“Uh, yeah, just… Checking to make sure I have everything,” Dean says, turning around to face his brother.

 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s with all the pharmacy stuff?” Sam asks.

 

Dean hesitates for a moment, looking back at the table before speaking. “Cas is sick,” he says. If he told Sam he was sick, there’s no way he’d let him go.

 

“Oh, you didn’t mention that before. How’s he doing?” Sam asks. Dean wishes he would just stop asking questions.

 

“He’s good. Better. Let’s just hit the road, alright?” Dean replies hastily. Sam raises his eyebrows, but chooses to let it go.

 

“Alright well if all goes well, we shouldn’t be gone too long. Cas is still sleeping?” Sam continues.

 

“Yeah, I left a note. Let’s go,” Dean says. And with that, the brothers set off, Dean trying to hide his nauseousness and stuffy head.

 

As the two walked out the door, the cold hit Dean like a ton of bricks. Shivering, he runs to the car for the little bit of relief he’d get from the air conditioner. Upon getting in, Dean sneezes, scaring himself and especially Sam.

 

“Dude,” Sam starts. “You good?”

 

“I’m fine,” Dean says, really sick of that question. “It’s just frickin’ freezing.”

 

“Okay, well anyway it’s not too long of a drive. If I’m right then their next target is about a hundred miles from here,” Sam says, starting the car.

 

Dean immediately switches the hot air on blast, thankful for the little heat it gives off. Old cars weren’t really known for their grade A heating systems.

 

“I’ll read, you drive,” Dean says, grabbing the printed laptop pages Sam had carried out with him. Sam nods, setting off.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**_8.45p.m.  
December 17th, 2013._ **

 

 

“Dean, look out!” Sam yells out to Dean, signaling the monster behind him. Dean ducks, making him ten times dizzier than before.

 

He swings out with his sword behind him, missing by a long shot. Sam runs over, cutting the head off of the creature.

 

“Thanks,” Dean says quickly. No other signs of any more were around them, and he can barely see a thing anyway. He curses the moment he decided to take two of whatever pills Cas had given him. This, he thinks, is why I never take medicine.

 

“What is wrong with you, Dean? You almost got killed!” Sam yells.

 

Dean attempts to answer, but is met with nothing but the pavement hitting his hands.

 

“Dean?” Dean can hear Sam yelling, and grabbing his arms. “Are you hurt? _Dean!_ ”

 

...

 

Dean wakes up in the Impala, the bits of hot air hitting his face. “Dean?” he hears.

 

“What-what happened?” Dean asks. Sam breathes a sigh of relief at the sound of his brother.

 

“You passed out so I’m bringing you back. You’ve been off all day, man. I couldn't find any wounds, so I took you to the hospital,” Sam says.

 

“The hospital?” Dean asks, suddenly more awake. He flashes back to Cas offering the same thing, but can’t believe Sam actually took him.

 

“Yeah,” Sam says, with a hint of annoyance. “And they told me, that you have a cold.”

 

Dean is speechless for a moment, regretting not saying anything. Also, sorta amused at the thought of Sam running in there to find out he has a cold. But saddened too. He should have just said he had a cold. Jesus, it was like the whole world was stopping for a case of the sniffles.

 

“I’m-”

 

“Dean, next time, just tell me. Okay? It’s not that hard. I might as well have just gone on my own,” Sam says.

 

Dean stays silent as he looks around, recognizing that they’re almost to the bunker. Damn it, Cas. All of this because you wanted to play in the snow.

 

They pull up to the bunker in silence. Dean gets out, circling around to the trunk to see Sam doing the same.

 

“I’ll get everything. Just go in,” Sam says. Dean is thrown off by the slightly cold nature of the statement.

 

Dean walks up to the bunker, opening the door shakily. He’s greeted with warm air which both simultaneously makes him happy and also doesn’t help with his drowsiness. The first thing he does is search for Cas, realizing that leaving him alone for so long probably wasn’t the best idea. But what can he say? He’s sick.

 

He runs to his room, regretting it immediately because this causes major joint pain. Dean slows down, reaching his door and stepping inside to see nothing but a mess of tissues, plates, and a strewn blanket. Looking around, he goes to call out for Cas.

 

“Dean,” he hears from behind him. He whips himself around to see a very disheveled looking Castiel. His hair in a tussle, unshaven, wearing Dean’s black t-shirt and red hoodie, sweatpants, and no shoes.

 

“Cas, I-”

 

“Went hunting with Sam. Yes, I know,” Cas says, crossing over to Dean slowly. Dean stands, hating that he hasn’t been the one doing the speaking for the past several days. Either Cas is controlling him, or Sam is angry at him for lying. He can barely speak for himself.

 

“Dean?” The two hear Sam’s voice from down the hall. Castiel’s face drops, his eyes widening in fear. Dean’s confused at his reaction, wondering what suddenly made Cas so scared. Could it be Sam?

 

“Don’t worry, I got your letter,” Cas says.

 

Sam walks into the room, causing Castiel to turn on his heels. Suddenly, he coughs. Then coughs again. Then again and again. Following the coughs, Cas starts to collapse towards Dean, Dean barely catching him.

 

“Cas what’s wrong?” Sam says, bending down.

 

“I’m sick,” Cas explains in the worst fake sick voice Dean has ever heard, “Dean has been taking care of me.”

 

Sam looks up at Dean, raising his eyebrows and giving him a Really? That what you went with? kind of look.

 

“Get up, Cas,” Sam says. Cas, not breaking character, flings himself onto the floor like he’s dying. Sam and Dean can’t help but laugh at the sight.

 

“Cas, get up,” Dean says. Castiel complies this time, slowly getting up. He looks at the two brothers in confusion.

 

“Sam knows I’m sick, you can cut the act,” Dean says. Sam shakes his head at the two of them.

 

“Dean, next time just do us all a favor and accept when you’re sick. And let Cas take care of you, seems like he went all out,” Sam says, nodding his head towards the bed. Cas stays silent, the two looking at Dean.

 

“It’s really not even that bad of a cold,” Dean says. Sam chuckles at Dean’s endless stubbornness. He’ll never learn, will he?

 

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Sam says, edging towards the door. Dean rolls his eyes at his teasing little brother, and with that, he’s alone with Cas.

 

“So,-”

 

“I’m sorry, Cas. I know I’m too stubborn and I made a mistake. Next time, you can take care of me,” Dean says. Cas is caught off guard, smiling big at Dean.

 

“You can take care of _me_ too,” Cas says.

 

“Why would I need to take care of you?” Dean asks. Cas closes the distance between the two of them, grabbing Dean’s hip and the back of his neck to pull him into a long kiss. Dean’s shocked, but quickly eases into it, holding onto the back of Cas’ head and looping his arm underneath his to meet the small of his back. Castiel deepens the kiss before pulling away, still smiling.

 

“Because I read on the internet that sharing saliva can transfer a cold,” he says. Dean shakes his head at the man in amusement.

 

“Besides that last bit being slightly gross, I have to admit that the rest of it was pretty smooth. I’m rubbing off on you,” he says smugly before kissing him again.

 

~*~*~*~

  
**_December 17th.  
10.07p.m._ **

 

  
Dean and Cas have been sat on the couch for almost three hours now, just watching movies. They decided it best to save making out until Dean gets better… Because, he fell straight to sleep right after their last kiss a few hours ago. Kinda kills the moment, don't it.

 

So, now that he's wide awake due to one too many naps today, they've been binge watching chick flicks. Not that Dean likes those, _of course_ – they're for Cas. The Angel is in his own burrito of blankets, whereas Dean has been barred from the extra layers – apparently, the hospital said that he was almost spiking a fever. Dean thinks they were being dramatic, though.

 

“Cas?” He groans groggily, stretching out in his seat.

 

The Angel murmurs something inaudible back to him, and Dean looks over to see that his eyes are barely open. “You can go to sleep, you know.” He tells his Angel, who quickly acts wide awake.

 

As Dean goes over to change the DVD (this takes a lot of effort), he hears small snores coming from the sofa. Chuckling to himself at how easy that was, he puts in the next movie in the pile. As he climbs back onto the sofa, he almost falls off again due to yet another sneeze.

 

Cas’ eyes squint open, and he mumbles a quiet “bless you,” before going straight back to sleep again. Dean shakes his head, and then reaches out for the last box of tissues. “Want me to buy some more of those?” A voice startles him from behind, and he turns around to see Sam standing above him, a smirk upon his face.

 

“Don't do that,” Dean grumbles in annoyance, throwing the now empty box of tissues at his head… But, he misses by at least three metres.

 

“I'm going out on a food run – we have no pancake ingredients left, and I want some for breakfast… Do you want anything?” His brother asks, and Dean flashes back to Castiel’s burnt pancakes fiasco from the other morning.

 

“Nah, I'm fine…” Dean trails off, remembering how being so stubborn had almost lead him into two arguments over the past couple of days. “But, maybe some tissues… And, more aspirin!” He calls out to Sam, who's already walking away from the situation.

 

Unable to hear whatever sarcastic remark his sibling yells back to him – due to a painful coughing fit – the last thing he hears is the front door slamming shut. Leaning back into the couch, he's suddenly greeted with Cas cuddling up to him, whilst still fast asleep.

 

“C’mon, Cas… You don't wanna get sick too, _trust me._ ” He tries to gently push him off, but this just causes him to cuddle up to Dean even tighter.

 

Rolling his eyes, he eventually just accepts it, and cuddles back. This action ends up resulting in Dean falling asleep ten minutes later, and this is exactly where Sam finds them both, one hour later.

 

~*~*~*~

  
**_4.20a.m.  
December 18th._ **

 

 

Dean awakes with a crick in his neck, and a dryness in his throat. He feels around the sofa, only to find that Cas isn't here. “Cas?” He attempts to speak, but only coughing results.

 

“Ow,” he practically rolls off of the sofa, and then just lays on the floor for a few seconds.

 

He pulls the blanket off of the sofa, and wraps himself in it. He wonders if Sam brought any food on his run, because he's kind of hungry – having not had much of an appetite recently. He wanders to the fridge, and decides on having some cereal.

 

“Are you cold?” A quiet voice comes up from behind him, but he still flinches.

 

Dean shakes his head, but his chattering teeth are a slight contradiction. “Hey, Cas.” He spoons the cereal into his mouth, but is full after the fourth lot.

 

The Angel frowns, and places his back hand to Dean's forehead – this time he doesn't even resist. “You're actually warm,” he notes.

 

Cas walks over to the small area of medical supplies, that Sam had laid out earlier. Taking the thermometer, Dean rolls his eyes and holds out his hand. “I can do it myself,” he grumbles. He's such a child.

 

Once the thermometer beeps, Cas takes it out before Dean can look at the reading. “I'd say you're not cold – one hundred and three highly says otherwise.” He exclaims, and then goes back over to the medical equipment.

 

He tosses Dean a pack of aspirin, and then fills up a glass of water for him. He takes them in one swig, and then places the glass back down again. “Aren't you going to eat your cereal?” The concerned Angel tilts his head to one side, looking down at the still full bowl.

 

Dean opens his mouth to speak, but Cas ends up being greeted by two sneezes instead. “Bless you… Times two,” Castiel chuckles at himself, but Dean just groans unhappily.

 

“Heads up!” Cas throws a new tissue box Dean's way, but the Winchester’s reflexes aren't great… He almost falls off his chair trying to catch them.

 

“I meant to do that,” he mumbles awkwardly, getting up to get the tissues.

 

Cas tries to beat him to it, but Dean is still somewhat stubborn. He throws the used tissue away, and then sighs. “Now what? It's too early to do anything, and I can't sleep… Did you sleep?” He starts to ramble, and then edges away from Castiel as he tries to take off Dean's hoodie.

 

“I did sleep, yes.” He says, still tugging at the garment. “Now, stay still – do you want your fever to get worse?” His stern tone surprises Dean, who stops fidgeting and stays still.

 

“But, I'm cold!” He whines, hugging his now bare arms.

 

Castiel is about to explain the actual meaning of a fever to him, but he decides against it. “You'll warm up soon,” he simply states, and runs a nearby flannel under the cold tap.

 

“Oh, no you don't!” Dean catches sight of the freezing cold material that Cas is about to put on his forehead, and makes a run for it.

 

Castiel quickly switches off the tap, and starts to tear after him. “Get back here!” He yells, somehow being outrun by Dean.

 

“Dean?” Cas lowers his voice, because they've just gone past Sam's room.

 

Unfortunately, the bunker is one big ass place. Dean could be hiding anywhere. Well, even more unfortunately for him, Castiel can still hear him sneeze. “Found you!” The Angel swings the door open to the library, and finds an exhausted Dean sitting on the floor, by a nearby book shelf.

 

“Okay, okay.” He wheezes, walking up to Cas.

 

He unwillingly collapses into his arms, and Castiel helps him to his bedroom. Upon lying him on the bed, he presses the cold flannel to his forehead. “Sorry,” he apologises, as Dean winces from the cool temperature reacting with his body heat.

 

“Can you stay with me?” He asks sleepily, barely able to keep his eyes open.

 

Cas nods. “Of course,” he holds onto Dean's hand.

 

“Hey, you've stopped shivering – that means your fever is going down.” Cas whispers, and dabs the flannel along his brow line.

 

Dean mumbles something that Castiel doesn't quite catch, and then his eyes stay closed. His snoring is probably loud enough for Sam to hear, a few doors down. Cas chuckles to himself, and then smiles down at his hunter.

 

~*~*~*~

 

 


	19. Snow much for a fun winter. Part 3.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**_December 18th.  
8.22a.m._ **

 

 

Sam and Dean are the only two people occupying the kitchen. Sam is searching up cases on the Internet, and Dean is sat at the other end of the table. “Dude,” Sam slides another box of tissues across the table, making a disgusted face at Dean.

 

He flips his younger brother off, and then leans back in his chair in defeat. “Was Cas really still asleep when you got up?” Sam changes the subject, and looks up from his laptop.

 

Dean nods, “I guess being human is damn tiring.” He sniffs.

 

“I'm gonna _throw_ the next box at you,” Sam warns, but before he can bicker any longer, there's the sound of shuffling footsteps nearing the brothers in the kitchen.

 

“I can't help it!” Dean snaps over at him, right before Cas enters the room.

 

The brothers don't really pay attention to him at first, as he makes his way towards the coffee pot. It isn't until after the kerfuffle of dropping his mug onto the floor, due to a sneeze, that the brothers heads both dramatically look upwards.

 

 _“Cas?”_ Dean and Sam both synchronise their speech, as they notice how disheveled the Angel looks.

 

He's wearing one of Dean's (too big) grey hoodies, and a pair of grey sweatpants to match. His nose is a shade of cherry red, and his eyes are watering. “I'm okay,” he sounds even more stuffed up than Dean.

 

“I'm leaving this room and performing a full on decontamination session!” Sam shuts his laptop faster than you can say _‘so, get this’_ and quickwalks out of the kitchen.

 

Dean squint-eyes at his melodramatic sibling, and then gestures for Cas to come over to him. “Dean, I don't like being human.” He coughs, and rubs his eyes.

 

The Winchester smirks. “Do you have a cold?” He pouts sarcastically, and Castiel frowns.

 

“Am I dying?” The Angel sniffles, and sits down at the kitchen table.

 

His head hits the wooden surface, and he groans loudly. “I think I am,” he breathes heavily through his mouth, and then sits up again to sneeze.

 

“Dean, if I die, I just wanted to let you know –”

 

“Cas, shut up.” Dean laughs at how he's acting. Okay, fair enough it's his first time ever experiencing human sickness… But, he isn't freakin’ dying.

 

He slides him the tissue box, and Cas looks a little embarrassed. “I'm not dying… _Okay._ ” He nods to himself, and pulls three tissues out of the box at once.

 

“You're not dying,” Dean chuckles, reaching out for Castiel’s hand. “You just caught my cold.” He finalises.

 

Cas pouts sadly. “Well, I don't like it. You can have it back,” he folds his arms and closes his eyes.

 

“Cas… I _still_ have it, dumbass.” His green eyes roll, but Castiel can't see as he's now snoring in the chair.

 

Dean raises his eyebrows. Wow, he sure can fall asleep quick. As he stands up from his chair and tiptoes away, he hears a sudden sneeze, and then a crash. Turning around to see Cas on the floor, he tries his best not to laugh.

 

“Go get comfortable on the couch, and I'll bring you some medicine.” Dean’s facial expression softens, as Castiel grips onto the edge of the table, and tries to stand up.

 

Despite not feeling well himself, the eldest Winchester gathers up what they have left of Sam's run from last night. He carries in the last box of tissues, the last box of cold and flu pills, some sinus strips and the thermometer. “Your turn,” he holds the thermometer near Cas’ mouth.

 

“Dean, I think it's a necessity that we cuddle.” Cas murmurs with the thermometer wobbling in between his lips, and Dean has to strain to understand exactly what he's saying.

 

He shrugs. “Well, I guess since we're both sick now.” He removes the thermometer, and checks the reading.

 

“You're good,” Dean smiles, and then puts the thermometer down with the rest of the medical things.

 

Cas’ eyes widen, _“Good?!”_ He starts coughing loudly. “Do I _look_ good? Do I _sound_ good?!”

 

“Wow, it's not only my sickness that's contagious,” Dean comments, his eyebrows rising from the surprise, once again.

 

The Angel looks up at him with a frown, “What did you say?” His sleepy eyes blink in confusion.

 

“Nothing,” Dean attempts to sing-song, and then sits down beside Castiel’s snuggled up body.

 

Cas sighs dramatically. “You know, I never thought I'd say this… But, I somewhat regret kissing you a few days ago.” He huffs sadly, leaning into Dean's shoulder and parking his head there.

 

“Only somewhat?” The Winchester teases, feeling Cas’ slightly warmer than usual touch against his cheek.

 

“I still wouldn’t take it back,” Castiel states, looking up to Dean who looked down to him.

 

“Me neither,” Dean says, smiling at the human yet still angelic boy who smiled back, still staring up at him.

 

Castiel snuggled into him, his hand finding a comfortable place on Dean’s chest. They would always be safe like this, together in each other’s arms.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Dean spots the clock on the wall beside them. 8:30 p.m. The two had spent the past twelve hours falling in and out of sleep, talking and coughing.

 

“Cas,” Dean says, shaking Castiel out of the short sleep he’d fallen into maybe fifteen minutes earlier.

 

Castiel coughs, finding his throat to be dry. “Yes, Dean?” he says, his voice deep and gravelly.

 

“If we’re gonna sleep anyway we should go to bed. We can share mine now that you’re sick too,” Dean says. He feels Cas nod into his shoulder before he sits up, trying to force his aching muscles to let him stand.

 

Finally Dean stands, feeling a headrush come on. Well, at least his breathing seemed to be improving. Cas follows suit, standing next to Dean while holding his head.

 

“Do you need help?” Dean asks, looking at the pained Cas standing in front of him. Castiel went to answer but instead started collapsing back onto the couch, Dean instinctively reaching out to grab him even though nothing would have happened.

 

“Whoa there,” Dean says, helping him back up. “I’ll help you to bed.”

 

“But _you’re_ still sick,” Cas says.

 

“Don’t worry about me,” Dean says. “It’s time for me to help you.”

 

He reluctantly lets himself lean on Dean till they got to his room, feeling each step like a pound of bricks in his head. Finally when they reach the bed, Castiel sits down, motioning for Dean to sit with him. Dean smiles, looking towards the door.

 

“You lay down. I’m gonna go talk to Sam if he’s still here, and bring in whatever tissue boxes and pills we have left. We’ll do a run for more tomorrow,” he says. Cas frowns, tilting his head.

 

“But you’re still sick, I told you. I should still be taking care of you. I’m sorry,” Cas says. Dean shakes his head.

 

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I got you sick, now let me take care of you like-” Dean sneezes suddenly, cutting his sentence off. He pauses, sniffling. “Like you took care of me.”

 

Castiel gives Dean a look, his point having been made for him. Dean rolls his eyes.

 

“I’m fine. I’m feeling better, I promise. Just lie down, I’ll be back in a few,” Dean says. He can sense Cas is still going to argue, so he grabs his shoulders and gently lays him down on the bed, getting on top of him.

 

“I’m not gonna ask again,” Dean says. Cas looks up at him, wide eyed.

 

“Fine, but tomorrow I’m taking care of you again,” Cas says, afterwards coughing with a closed mouth. Dean gets off, satisfied with himself.

 

“Alright, good. I’ll be back and you will rest,” Dean says, sauntering out of the room.

 

Dean searches before finally checking the kitchen to see Sam sitting down at a chair eating steak and mixed vegetables. Sam looks up to see Dean staring at his food, distracted.

 

“Dean?” Sam says.

 

“Hey, so uh,” Dean starts, now taking his eyes off the food. “Cas is sick.”

 

“I noticed,” Sam says, taking another bite of food. “Do you want some?”

 

“Oh god, yes,” Dean says. Sam laughs, shaking his head and getting some more from the counter while Dean sits.

 

“Try not to sneeze on my food,” Sam jokes.

 

Dean glares at his little brother but continues his previous thought. “What are your plans for tomorrow? We need another trip to the pharmacy now, and-”

 

“Actually there’s a case I was gonna work,” Sam says.

 

“A case? Where? If we get some more medicine and tissues then maybe-”

 

“There’s no way you’re coming. Stay with Cas, take care of him. And yourself,” Sam says, cutting off Dean yet again. He brings Dean’s plate over to the table, setting it down in front of him.

“How long do you think you’ll be? When are you leaving?” Dean asks, taking a huge bite of his food but only half tasting it.

 

“I’ll leave first thing, and I don’t know. Could be two days, could be a week,” Sam says. Dean nods.

 

“Well be careful, and if you need me call,” Dean says.

 

Sam nods back. “Always.”

 

They sit there for a while eating and talking, Sam telling Dean about the case. Finally when they’re finished, Dean checks the time. Almost ten, crap.

 

“I promised Cas I’d be back quickly so I’d better get back, but keep me updated, okay? Be safe,” Dean says. Sam brings their dishes to the sink.

 

“Thanks, I will,” he says. Dean ignores the pain in his head and runs back to his room, hoping Cas is asleep.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Castiel hears footsteps down the hallway, causing him to wake up. Quickly he sits up, looking to the clock. An hour since Dean said he’d be right back.

 

Dean walks in quietly, tiptoeing till he looks to the bed to see a very awake Cas.

 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, innocently.

 

“You said you’d be back quickly,” Cas says. Dean sighs in frustration.

 

“I got stuck talking to Sam, he’s doing a case,” Dean says, attempting to change the subject.

 

“You should be resting, and I should be taking care of you,” Cas says. Dean resorts to plan b. When all else fails, take your clothes off. Sorta.

 

Dean strips his shirt off, walking over to his closet, making sure to keep it off as long as he could without being obvious.

 

“You wanted to go with him, didn’t you?” Cas asks. Dean pauses for a moment before grabbing a shirt.

 

“No,” Dean says, putting the shirt on. Obviously Cas wasn’t being fooled.

 

“You didn’t offer to go with him?” Cas asks. Dean took his pants off, trading them for sweatpants.

 

“I’m here to take care of you,” Dean says, walking over to the bed to sit next to Cas.

 

Castiel is silent, watching as Dean sits down next to him. He feels like he’s dying, but he’s angry that Dean still won’t let himself be taken care of.

 

“Look, I let you take care of me. I did. I’ll admit it took a while, and I’m sorry for that, but now you’re sick and you need to let me do the same, okay?” Dean says. Castiel can’t help but smile, knowing this was about the warmest Dean came. Besides, he thought, I can still take care of him.

 

“We can take care of each other,” Cas says. Dean smiles, finally having been let off the hook.

 

“Exactly,” he says.

 

~*~*~*~

 

 


	20. Snow much for a fun winter. Part 4.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**_December 22nd._ **

**_11.22a.m._ **

 

  
Finally, after almost over a week Dean is one hundred percent better… He can actually breathe again, and talk without coughing through every word. Feeling like he can conquer the world, he has a skip in his step as he makes his way into the kitchen, after his shower – prepared to cuddle Cas for a few more days, until he's better too.

 

But, he finds it strange to see the Angel sitting on the counter, reading a book. “Good morning,” Cas looks up and smiles. His voice is completely back to normal, and his face is no longer the flushed red that his nose was to match.

 

“You're better?” Dean seems surprised that the now human (despite still referring to him as ‘his angel’ at times) managed to recover in only four days.

 

Castiel nods, with a grin. “Maybe there's a speck of Angel still in here, who knows.” He shrugs, and then starts to giggle. “Or, maybe you're just weaker than me.” He's joking, but Dean folds his arms over his chest.

 

“Oh, _really?_ ” He raises an eyebrow, and nears Castiel.

 

Soon, Dean is looming directly above Cas’ bed head – he did shower, but he just never really brushes his hair. “Really,” Castiel smirks in response, his eyes locked onto Dean's lips as they mirror his actions.

 

“So, like… Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” The eldest Winchester lowers his voice to a raspy whisper of lust.

 

Cas pauses for a few moments, but Dean doesn't have time for thinking. He leans down, and gently presses his lips against Castiel’s. Their mouths move slowly in sync for a while, whilst their hands find the perfect resting places – Dean's right hand cups the back of Castiel’s head, and his left hand lays upon his hip. Whilst, Cas’ hands both wind around Dean's waist, and loosely link behind him.

 

For the first thirty seconds of the kiss, they go slow. Just getting back into the swing of things, their lips gently caress each other. After the next thirty seconds pass though… Dean slides his hands up into Cas’ hair, and grips the strands in between his fingers. Castiel is taken aback slightly, and it's barely audible, but he moans just slightly. He then uses his own hands to cup Dean's face, pulling Dean's mouth even closer to his.

 

After Dean’s finished playing with Cas’ now even messier than it was before hair, he moves his fingers down to fumble with the buttons on his white shirt. He undoes them one by one, pausing only to leave a trail of kisses up his neck. Smirking against Dean's mouth, Castiel pushes Dean backwards a little, and then places his mouth against to Dean's neck.

 

Making sure to leave a rather impressionable mark – he's good at that – upon Dean's skin, he feels rather satisfied with himself. Just as Dean continues with removing Cas’ shirt, there's a loud clanging noise that echoes throughout the bunker. The couple freeze at first, but no more sounds fill the air.

 

Shrugging nonchalantly (and, in sync) they continue with their making out. Just as the last button is about to be undone, footsteps start to come down the stairs from the front door. “Fuck sake!” Dean curses through gritted teeth, moving backwards from Cas and opening his eyes.

 

The Angel dramatically looks around them, and pulls the flannel that he had over his shirt, shut around his exposed upper body. “Is it Sam?” The angel’s tone is reduced to a whisper.

 

“Who else can get in here?” Dean looks at him with sarcasm personified all over his facial expression and body language, and Cas looks a touch embarrassed.

 

Seconds later, the footsteps reach their way into the kitchen. Dean takes another few steps back from Cas – who jumps down from the counter, where Dean had lifted him up and onto earlier – to try and make his stance look more natural, and not like he'd just been kissing the life out of his boyfriend… Not like the already reddening hickey gives it away, or anything.

 

Someone in the doorway dramatically clears their throat, causing both pairs of eyes to shoot in the same direction. Sam is standing there – signature ‘bitch face’ plastered over his expression. Dean's brow furrows, and he messes with his collar. “We were, uh, just – um…” He trails off, noticing the head injury that his younger brother is sporting.

 

“What happened? Case take a wrong turn?” There's concern in his voice, but he's confused when Sam rolls his eyes.

 

After kissing his teeth, he clears his throat again. “I hit my head on the Impala trunk. After the case. You wanna know why?” Sam looks completely and utterly done, and it seems as if he's mad at Dean.

 

“Why?” His brother decides to humour him, still unsure of why Sam's acting so pissed.

 

Sam pauses for a few moments, and then drops his duffel bag carelessly onto the floor. “Because I sneezed, Dean. You got me sick.” He folds his arms, and does not find the matter as hilarious as Dean apparently does – since he's just doubled over, and can't stop laughing.

 

“It's not fucking funny, Dean!” Cas almost starts laughing just because Dean is practically crying, but he keeps a straight face, for the sake of staying on Sam's good side.

 

The elder brother stands up straight again, and then looks Sam seriously and dead in the eye. “I hope you didn’t leave as bad a mark on the car, as you did your head.” He can't even stay straight faced for the whole sentence, finding himself snorting by the end of it.

 

Both Dean and Cas are in fits of giggles now, but as soon as Sam starts to stride towards them they stop. “I didn't mean it, Sammy! You know I was only kidding,” Dean holds his hands up in defence, backing away from his angry looking sibling.

 

Grabbing Cas’ arm, he drags him away from the counter, and tears into a run – and, thankfully, Castiel gets the memo too. The couple start to run through the halls, laughing with each other and constantly looking behind them. It doesn't take long for them to lose Sam – thankfully, he's not quite as fast when he's sick.

 

They hide out in one of the random rooms that the bunker holds for storage, and close the door quietly behind them. Cas leans breathlessly against the door, whilst Dean stands opposite him.

 

“So,” the eldest Winchester begins, biting down on his bottom lip as he checks Castiel out for the umpeenth time they've known eachother. “Where were we?” He smirks, staring longingly at the Angel's lips.

 

Pretending to look deep in thought, Cas brings his index finger up to his chin. “I'd say we were about…” He leans up on tiptoes, pressing his lips firmly upon Dean's mouth.

 

“Here.” He grins, his eyes fluttering closed as Dean immediately returns the romantic gesture – that had been interrupted extremely too soon just a while before.

 

“Cas?” Dean says in between kisses. Cas stops, looking into his eyes. “Thank you.”

 

Cas smiles, pressing his lips against Dean’s.

 

“I’ll always be here to take care of you,” he says. Dean pulls him closer again.

 

“Now, let's continue before it gets too mushy,” he says, Cas laughing as he kisses him again.

 

  
~*~*~*~

 

  
**_The End._ **

 


	21. Afraid of the dark, Novak?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which castiel is Dean's college roommate. And, Cas really hates the dark.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

It's the first day of Castiel's new life. He's left home, gotten a dorm room in his new college, and met his roommate. His roommate is extremely attractive – green eyes, dirty blonde-brunette hair, adorable freckles... Honestly, he's just a whole package of cute.

 

Cas hasn't seen him much today, since everyone has been learning their way around the huge campus, and meeting their new professors. It's nine pm now, and the sun is going down. Dean is brushing his teeth in the bathroom, whilst Castiel is reading on his bed.

 

His black-framed glasses perched at the end of his nose, whilst he leans back against his pillow. He's already snuggled underneath of his duvet, finding comfort in the smell of his Mom's washing powder. It's laced inside of his navy blue button-up pyjamas too, to which Dean chuckles at when he exits the bathroom.

 

"Mind if I turn off the light? I've got an eight am lecture tomorrow," the guy sighs heavily, jumping onto his bed.

 

Castiel looks up from his book, and then looks down again in order to bookmark his page. "Uh – yeah, sure," he mutters, his mind traveling to different places.

 

Dean grins, and then reaches across to switch off the lamp. The whole room is engulfed in deep blackness, making Cas feel immediately smaller. "G'night!" He can hear Dean shuffling around under his duvet, trying to get comfortable upon the cheap mattress.

 

Unable to answer, Castiel shuts his eyes. He thinks of being at home, where he'd leave his little bedside lamp on all night. It'd always make him feel safer, and keep the nightmares away... He'd always had them, ever since he was old enough to remember.

 

Light snores travel across from the bed beside him, making him flinch in fear. He can't bring himself to open up his eyes, and let the darkness follow him again. But, Cas feels that maybe if he was close to someone, it'd make him feel a bit better. He daren't turn the light back on, in fear of waking his new roommate. What a great first impression _that_ would be – Dean finding out that Cas, a nineteen year old student, is afraid of the damn dark.

 

He sucks in a shaky breath, grabbing up the courage to open his eyes. His hands clutch at the top of his duvet, which is covering half of his face. Castiel slowly lowers the safety blanket, and then turns his head to look at Dean's bed. He can't tell if he's asleep or not, because the snoring has stopped.

 

"Dean?" Castiel whispers, blinking the excess liquid from his eyes.

 

There's no answer.

 

He swings one foot tentatively out of the duvet, and feels it press against the cold floor below. Another foot follows, and now he's standing up. Castiel tip-toes across the small distance between his bed and Dean's, and then he stops. There's still no sign of his roommate being awake, so he gently climbs onto the end of Dean's bed.

 

Feeling a tiny bit safer than he was when alone, Cas curls up into a ball. He screws his eyes shut, and thinks of positive thoughts. _Nothing can get him, he's safe here. It'll be daylight again soon, don't worry._

 

"Castiel?" A groggy voice utters, and then Novak feels movement in Dean's bed.

 

He freezes, hoping that Dean will just fall back to sleep. "That better be you at the end of my bed, because I don't have any weapons to fight intruders at this hour... Or any energy, for that matter." He sits up in the bed, and stretches with a yawn.

 

"I – it's me," Castiel stumbles over his words, talking so quietly that Dean has to lean in closer in order to hear everything.

 

"Why _are_ you at the end of my bed?" The Winchester wonders aloud, trying to squint at the darkened figure through the pitch blackness that surrounds them both.

 

"I don't know," Cas blurts out as a quick thought up excuse, then proceeds to get off of it.

 

He walks back over to his own bed, biting down on his bottom lip to try and stop what he fears will come next. "Afraid of the dark, Novak?" A jokey jeer stops Cas dead in his tracks, and he feels a few droplets of liquid topple downwards against his cheeks.

 

"No!" He defensively yells, spinning on his bare heels and almost having a heart attack when he comes face to face with Dean.

 

The bright beam of yellow streams into his face, as his roommate shines a torch at his face. "My brother was scared of the dark when he was a kid, I was only kidding," Dean hurriedly lowers the flashlight, and a tiny sob escapes Castiel's lips.

 

"Yeah – _was._ " Castiel wipes at his eyes, frustration and embarrassment overcoming him in one huge wave.

 

The clunk of Dean setting the flashlight down onto the bedside table makes Cas jump again, so he starts biting at his nails. Now that the room is slightly lit up, he feels himself calming down. Neither of the pair are lying back in their beds yet though, they're both snatching awkward glances at one another's faces.

 

"Do you wanna share my bed, with me?" The silence breaker is a huge shock to Castiel, because he wasn't expecting these words to come out of Dean's mouth. He was surely expecting something more along the lines of 'you're such a baby,' or 'just go to sleep.'

 

So, at first his brow furrows, and his head tilts a little to the side. Dean looks completely sincere, with added tiredness over his face. He climbs into bed, and shuffles to the side, leaving a gap. A gap big enough for Cas to fit in.

 

His hand pats the empty part of the mattress, and he yawns again. "I haven't got all day, Cas," he rubs at his eyes, whilst Castiel is having an internal freak out.

 

He is competently unsure (and, respectively not going to ask) of Dean's sexuality, but he damn well knows that he, himself is gay. And, he for sure has a crush on his new roommate. Especially now that he's acting so accepting of Castiel's fear, and not making fun of him like most people do, when _they_ find out.

 

"Shall I turn the flashlight off?" Castiel's brain isn't the best at operating under pressure, and Dean laughs half-heartedly.

 

"No, just get into my bed before I change my mind... I meant that in a totally non-creepy way," he starts to laugh, and even Cas manages a small giggle.

 

He steps over to Dean's bed, looking down at his closed eyes. Carefully climbing in beside Dean, he finds that it's rather hard to avoid skin-to-skin contact – especially since Dean sleepy in his boxer shorts, and a t-shirt.

 

"Goodnight, Cas," he mumbles, against Castiel's neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

 

"Goodnivht, Dean," he whispers in return, deciding to ask him about the nickname tomorrow.

 

Nobody has ever called him that before... But, he definitely could get used to it.

 

~*~*~*~

 

 


	22. Riddled with nightmares.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel is Dean's new roommate in college, but keeps Dean awake at night whilst struggling from the terrors that sleep always brings him.

 

 

_**Early afternoon, Dean's fifth day at college.** _

 

~*~*~*~

 

"It's freakin' terrible, man!" Dean sips on his frappuccino, chewing on the straw. "He's yelling in his sleep, tossing and turning... It's horrible," he sighs heavily, leaning back in his chair.

 

"You could ask to transfer rooms?" Benny suggests, with a shrug of his shoulders.

 

Dean sits in thought for a moment or two, using the time to finish off his drink. He then shakes his head, a feeling of guilt arising. "Nah, I'd feel bad." Dean bites at his nails.

 

"Well, you can't have it both ways," Benny chuckles, throwing his empty cup into the nearby trashcan. He does a mini fistpump of victory, and then turns back to his friend. "Good luck," he tells him, before gathering up his things for their next class.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**_That night._ **

 

 

Dean stretches his whole body, glancing at the alarm clock in the middle of the two beds. It's almost nine pm, and these damn lectures seem to get him exhausted. His roommate is already curled up under the duvet covers, and it seems he doesn't mind the dim light from their lamp still being on.

 

Slowly reaching over to switch it off, Dean listens to the satisfying click that it makes. He snuggles himself down under his own duvet, and rest his head comfortably against his pillow. It seems to be a quiet night, because there's no yelling, nor tossing, nor turning.

 

Just as Dean's eyes start to close, he flinches at a sudden whimper. The sound is coming from the bed to his left, of course. "Castiel? You okay?" He whispers, wondering whether or not he woke him up by turning off the light.

 

There's no reply, but the sound of shuffling from where Castiel is beginning to writhe echos around the room. Dean turns to face the other side, trying to make out what's going on through the darkness. "Cas, buddy?" He tries a more friendly approach, in case he wasn't being answered because Castiel feels too shy.

 

Incoherent mumbles leave the bed beside him, and Dean can just about make out where the poor guy is clutching at his sheets for dear life. Moments later Cas bolts upright, scaring Dean half to death. He frantically looks around the room, backing up so close to his wall hat he slams his back against it.

 

Having no idea that Dean is awake, he erupts into a chorus of sudden sobs. "God dammit,, Dean flings his duvet off of his body, and goes straight to Castiel's side.

 

He climbs into the bed next to him, and feels the guy tense up when his palm starts to soothingly rub at his back. Cas freezes, holding his breath so as not to make anymore sounds. The feeling of Dean next to him is causing his body temperature to rise even higher, and all he needs right now is to be alone.

 

"D – did I w – wake you?" Castiel askis shakily, trying to control his tears but it isn't exactly working out too well for him.

 

"No," Dean continues to rub circles gently around his back, "I was already awake."

 

Castiel wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, frustrated at the vulnerable state yet another nightmare has put him in. "Oh," he sniffs, gasping for breath a little as his sobs start to slow down.

 

Dean pulls him closer, now enveloping him into a hug. Castiel feels like he should fight against it, slightly embarrassed once again by his childishness. But, the warmth and comfort that Dean is giving him makes it hard to pull away. He starts to feel safe, and aware that he's not in any _real_ danger at all.

 

"I'm sorry," the teary eyed student whispers, barely even audible.

 

"You're safe now, don't worry," Dean reassures him softly, trying to hide a yawn.

 

Cas knows that he can't go back to sleep now, and he feels extremely guilty about always keeping his new roommate wide awake at night. He always denies it, but Castiel knows he's lying. "Go back go sleep, I'll walk it off," he tries to move from Dean's grip, but feels it tighten.

 

"No, I'm not going to move until you're okay," the stern tone slightly worries Cas, but then Dean clears his throat a little. "I mean, if you want me to..." The Winchester trails off, letting Castiel exit his embrace.

 

He looks into Dean's eyes, unaware whether or not he can be seen back, because of the lack of light. "Thank you," he blinks away a few excess droplets, and carefully leans up against the wall.

 

Dean's eyes have in fact adjusted to the darkened room, and he can see the little red circles arond Cas' eyes. They're very blue, and Dean always catches himself staring at them whenever Cas and himself are studying in their dorm room together. His nose is tinted red too, and his cheeks are extremely flushed.

 

Dean would like to hold Castiel for longer, but he doesn't want to make the poor kid feel uncomfortable. He watches as Cas yawns, trying to fight the tiredness and pry his eyes back open again.

 

"Do you want me to lay beside you? Help you sleep?" Dean asks without even thinking, earning a look of confusion from the blue eyed boy opposite.

 

At first, Castiel shakes his head. But, Dean doesn't move. "Is that not weird?" He scratches at the back of his neck, remembering how he heard another student telling a tale of how Dean loves go hook up with girls at various frat parties.

 

A chuckle leaves Dean's lips. "Not if you don't say that," he mutters jokingly, still sitting up.

 

Castiel lies down, not really relaxed, but feeling a little bit safer now. "Yes, please," Cas murmurs, knowing that he'll be able to drop off to sleep with someone close to him.

 

Dean complies immediately, sliding down into the bed next to Cas. It's hard for them both to fit without the other almost rolling out, but after a few seconds of reshuffling, they make it work.

 

"Why do you always have nightmares?" Dean asks, gazing into the ocean eyes before him.

 

Castiel is taken aback by his question, and almost turns his body away. They're so close they could almost kiss, and Cas feels his cheeks getting hotter. "It's an anxiety thing... Happens a lot when there's big changes in my life," he whispers, avoiding any eye contact. "I'm sorry," he adds.

 

"That's okay, I was so nervous to come here that I cried on my brother's shoulder... He's four years younger than me," Dean starts to laugh, and a tiny smile threatens to spread across Castiel's face.

 

"I have trouble fitting into places," Cas continues to explain his life, despite only knowing this 'Dean' character for five days.

 

The forest eyes opposite him soften, caching in the moonlight that has just shone in from outside. "You fit perfectly into this bed," he laughs out loud, and Castiel giggles in response.

 

He can feel his anxiety washing away, and Dean notices his eyes are slowly closing. The Winchester stops talking, and rubs his thumb aagainst the top of Cas' hand, whilst it lies by his face.

 

Soon there are soft snores filling the room, so Dean stops comforting him. He lets his own eyes close too, but doesn't want to fall asleep just yet – he'll keep an eye on Cas for a little longer.

 

Thankfully, Castiel doesn't start to yell, or writhe around. He actually looks to be peaceful now, so Dean can safely drift off, knowing that Cas feels safe.

 

~*~*~*~

 

 


	23. Tickle fight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean and Castiel do pretty much what the title says.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

Castiel lies sprawled across the sofa, flicking through some pages in a book he found in the bunker library. He's waiting for Dean to arrive home from a grocery run, and he's taking his sweet time.

 

Finally, the familiar metallic clunk of the front door fills Cas' ears. He folds the page of his book over – despite this being one of Sam's pet hates – and rests it on the arm of the sofa. He can hear Dean's thudding footsteps walking towards him, and his eyes dart towards the door. Cas hurries over to it, hiding behind the steel frame.

 

He tries not to giggle, hearing Dean's breathing coming closer. "Cas? I got us some apple pie!" Dean calls out, whilst Castiel covers his mouth.

 

Just as the eldest Winchester enters the living area, the mischievous Angel jumps out behind him. "Boo!" He yells playfully, falling into a fit of laughter when Dean drops his grocery bags to the floor in fright.

 

"You shit!" Dean turns to face the chuckling mess, who's clutching his stomach.

 

"You are _so_ gonna pay for that," his lips curl into a smirk, and Castiel shakes his head.

 

"No, I'm sorry!" He uses the edge of Dean's flannel (it's the one he steals the most,) to wipe at his watering eyes, but Dean isn't listening.

 

He leaves the groceries where they are on the floor, after giving them a quick glance to make sure nothing broke. Shrugging off his jacket, Dean tosses that to the floor too. Then, he lunges towards Castiel. He digs his fingers into his ribs, causing Cas to giggle uncontrollably.

 

Dean never knew that it was possible for angels to even be ticklish, but one day he discovered that Castiel is in fact rather much so ticklish, when he was lying on his bare chest in bed, and his towel dried hair was tickling his exposed skin. So, of course the next thing he did was try and properly tickle him... Resulting in a black eye, that lasted two damn weeks. (He told Sam that it was from a rogue vamp.)

 

"Dean! Stop it," Cas gasps for air, kicking his legs out.

 

A sound coming from somewhere around the bunker temporarily distracts Dean from attacking his out of breath Angel, who then manages to squirm out of his grip and break free. He tears into a run, sliding along in his socks across the shiny hallway floor.

 

"You can run, but you can't hide!" Dean yells, running after him a lot easier since his shoes can grip the floor without slipping.

 

Sure enough, Cas eventually slides so fast that he falls over a pile of laundry outside of Dean's bedroom. He tumbles to a halt against the wall opposite, and rubs his head. "Ouch," he pouts sadly, seeing that Dean is offering him a hand to help him up.

 

"Truce?" The hunter asks, as Castiel squints his eyes suspiciously.

 

He nods wearily, taking Dean's hand. He follows him towards their bedroom, and then they walk inside. Dean uses his feet to kick his combat boots off, and then he stretches. Making his way towards his bed, Cas gently pushes the door shut.

 

"I will never truce!" He shouts dramatically, jumping on Dean and making them both fall down onto the bed.

 

Castiel slides his hands up Dean's shirt, grabbing his hips and tickling them as best as he can whilst he's being pushed away. "Cas, that's no fair! You nodded!" The Winchester tries his best not to laugh, but he can't help but fall victim to Castiel's attack mode.

 

He starts to turn into a giggling mess, which in turn is a very contagious laugh. Castiel is now laughing too hard to keep his hold on Dean's figure, and he falls onto the bed beside him. The couple have tears rolling down their faces, panting heavily to try and catch their breath.

 

"Truce?" Cas turns to face Dean, who's green eyes glisten from the water.

 

Dean grins, nodding. "Seal it with a kiss?" He winks, and Castiel agrees by pressing his lips against the hunter's.

 

Their eyes flutter closed in sync, and Cas pulls away for a moment. Blue meets green, and their hands link together. Dean's other thumb raises towards Castiel's cheekbone, wiping away a stray tear from amusement. Castiel shys away, but feels Dean gently tug him closer again. He envelopes him into a warm hug, and Castiel wraps his arms around his torso in response.

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	24. Deancas Halloween Oneshot.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dean and Charlie are invited to Gabe's Halloween part, Dean does nothing but complain. Halloween is stupid, and he can't see the point in it.
> 
> But, then he meets a cute guy, dressed as Marie... And, one thing leads to another.
> 
> So, maybe Halloween isn't so bad afterall.

 

  
~*~*~*~

 

**_8.30p.m.  
Charlie's bedroom._ **

 

 

“This is so stupid, why are we doing this again?” Dean grumbles, tugging on the leather jacket that's too tight for him to wear.

 

Charlie pokes her head around the bathroom door, pulling on her pink wig. “Because, Gabe invited us, and it'd be rude not to go,” she states firmly, going back into the bathroom again.

 

Dean dramatically rolls his eyes, and reaches for the hair gel. It was Charlie's idea to do ‘Grease’ themed costumes, but Dean didn't really want to dress up at all. He'd rather be at home, ignoring the doorbell as trick or treaters came looking for candy.

 

Gelling his hair to somewhat resemble Danny’s, he feels himself cringing. He hopes nobody will recognise him, despite the fact that practically the whole school have been invited… _Not that many people will go, right?_

 

About fifteen minutes later, and his best friend is finally finished with her makeup. “Let's go!” She beams, almost tripping in her heels as they get to the top of the stairs.

 

Dean helps her down, and then waits as she pulls on her pink bomber jacket. Charlie playfully punches his shoulder, wanting him to lighten up a little. He's always had a distaste for Halloween, not really seeing the point of the whole holiday really.

 

~*~*~*~

  
**_9:00pm.  
Gabe’s house._ **

 

 

Dean walked into the house and was immediately greeted with the stench of way too much cologne and alcohol that's been spilled on the floor. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, but kept walking anyway. His plan was to just stick with Charlie and hopefully he wouldn't have to talk to- crap. Where'd she go.

 

Dean whips around, looking for his best friend, but she's nowhere to be seen. How on earth did he manage to lose her in the eight steps it took to get from the doorway to the kitchen??

 

He sighs and walks to the island to grab a drink. If he has to endure this night alone, he sure as hell isn’t doing it sober. He reaches the island and grabs a beer, opening it with his ring. He takes a long drink, letting the cold alcohol take away some of the burn from all the secondhand smoke he's being forced to breathe in.

 

Dean leans against the wall next to the bar, doing a bit of people watching to try and scope out some friends. Not that he's expecting to find any, but he'll be damned to go through this alone.

 

Just as expected, friends were nowhere in sight. He didn't expect Charlie to abandon him, but he should've seen it coming really. Halloween was the one night girls were encouraged to dress in as little clothes as possible, and she always takes full advantage of that situation. And about two seconds later, as if she read his mind, she comes around the corner with a girl on her arm, yanking her towards the stairs. Well, so much for any hope of getting to hang out with her tonight.

 

Dean puts the bottle up to his lips and goes for another drink, sighing heavily when he realizes he's drained it all already. He turns back to the bar and grabs a shot with a gummy eyeball in it. Real smart, not a choking hazard or whatever. Regardless, Dean takes the glass and throws the drink back. He scrunches his face from the bitter taste of the alcohol, and the weird texture of the gummy eyeball sitting on his tongue.

 

He recovers and glances up. When he does, he's greeted with a boy with bright blue eyes, almost washed out by his big pupils from all the alcohol he's probably drank tonight. He rakes his eyes down the boy’s body, appreciating the white leggings hugging him tightly in all the right places. He's wearing a white button down, accentuated with a little pink bow tie, complete with the addition of whiskers on his cheeks and pointy little ears on top of his head. Dean looks at the boy’s eyes again and grins. “Well I'm not one that typically goes for pussy, but I might have to make an exception for you.”

 

The boy glances over at Dean, at first unsure who he was talking to, but then he realises the pun. A giggle falls from his pink lips, as he stumbles towards the counter.

 

“I see what you – did there!” He hiccups, clearly having had one too many glasses of pumpkin punch.

 

Dean watches as he tries to fill another glass, but keeps dropping the ladle back into the punch bowl. Raising one eyebrow, Dean chuckles. “Want some help there?” He asks, causing cat boy to frown.

 

“No, I'm perfectly perfect thanks… I mean, I'm fine.. I think,” he trails off, turning back to the bowl.

 

The Winchester gives up watching him try and fail to correctly fill his glass, – which probably is a good thing anyway – so he leans over, and takes the ladle from his hand. Their fingers brush together, but Dean ignores the butterflies that flare up in his stomach.

 

He fills the glass with perfect precision, and hands it to the guy. “I'm Dean,” he decides now is a good enough time as any to formally introduce himself.

 

“I'm Cas,” the boy replies with a warming smile, before taking the glass from Dean.

 

“Thanks!” He exclaims with extra enthusiasm, and Dean can't help but stare when he downs the liquid in one gulp.

 

Thinking to himself that the punch must be the way to get drunk as fast as possible, Dean decides to fill himself a glass. He scrunches his eyes shut at how strong the beverage actually is, surprised that Cas could take it so easily.

 

“Who’re you dressed as?” Cas questions, looking Dean up and down.

 

“Danny Zuko,” Dean sounds offended that he wouldn't be recognised, and Cas holds his hands up in defence.

 

Attempting to stand up without leaning against the counter, Cas ends up tumbling over his own feet. He feels himself bump into Dean’s chest, and looks up into his strikingly green eyes.

 

“Nice eyes,” he comments, before getting shoved off.

 

Dean smiles nervously, again trying to ignore the butterflies smashing against the walls of his stomach from the slightest touch from this guy.

 

“Uh thanks,” Dean responds. “Surprised you can see them with how blurry your vision must be from all that punch there.”

 

Cas rolls his eyes, “I may be drunk, but I'm not blind. I can tell a pretty face when I see one, sober or not.”

 

Dean huffs a breath, and plays with his fingers nervously, not knowing how to respond to that.

 

“Well, um, glad you, um, yeah right okay.” Dean stumbles over his words, and honestly wishes he would've stayed quiet instead of saying anything at all.

 

Cas raises his eyebrow at Dean, obviously amused at his complete inability to speak the English language. Dean sighs in frustration at himself, and hurriedly downs another glass of punch.

 

Before either of the pair can say anything else, a singing redhead enters the room. “Dean! We’re playing a game! I volunteered you to come and play,” Charlie runs over to her friend, falling into his arms and giggling loudly.

 

“What game is it?” Dean asks suspiciously, but she just laughs even harder.

 

“He can be your partner,” she points a wobbly finger in Cas’ direction, who simply shrugs at her sudden set of instructions.

 

She then takes Dean's hand, and Cas’ too, dragging them out of the kitchen and to wherever the hell this ‘game’ is being played.

 

Charlie pulls them into the living room and lets go of their hands, leaving them in an empty place on the rug, and going off to another empty place to play with the girl she's been with all night.

 

“WHATS UP PARTY PEOPLE!!” Gabe shouts from the front of the room.

 

Dean rolls his eyes at Gabe’s over enthusiasm, but Cas giggles and leans into Dean’s shoulder. Dean takes in a sharp breath, wanting to lean back into Cas, but ignoring the urge.

 

“Alright,” Gabe starts, “I have no idea what this game is actually called, but here's what you gotta do. I'm gonna call out a list of body parts, and those are the only things that can be touching the floor. So if I say two hands two feet, you can't have more than two hands, and you can't have like, an elbow or something on the floor. And one last thing, unless it's physically impossible to do this to complete a task, you and your partner have to be holding hands at all times.”

 

Dean's eyes widen. What did he just say?? Holding hands?? Oh fuck no. He can't there's no way-

 

Cas reaches down and threads his fingers through Dean's. He giggles and pulls Dean closer to the middle, so they can hear Gabe’s commands better.

 

“Alright here we go. Easy one at first. Two feet one hand.”

 

Dean just stands there, not knowing what to do. Cas nudges him and he looks over, seeing Cas unsteadily standing on one foot. Dean rolls his eyes and does the same. Cas then leans over, and attempts to balance his shaky posture by completely the task, and putting his hand on the ground. As he does, he tightens his grip on Dean's hand. Dean squeezes back on instinct, before realizing what he's doing, but plays it off as just helping his stay steady.

 

“Nice one nice one!” Gabe calls out. “One thing I forgot to mention, be quick. The team that does the pose last is out. I'll count that as a practice round, but don’t think so much. Alright! Next! Two hands, two knees!”

 

Before Dean could even register what the task was, Cas is shoving him to the ground with his free hand. Dean collapses onto his hands and knees awkwardly, still having one hand holding Cas’. All of a sudden, Dean feels a weight on his back. It's Cas. He lays down on top of Dean and puts his free hand on the outside of Dean’s.

 

“Lift up your feet!” Cas yells. Dean complies and pops his feet off the floor. He's trying to ignore the fact that there's a hot guy literally on top of him right now.

 

“Hannah, Hester, YOU’RE OUT. Next round, one butt, two feet!”

 

Dean wrinkles his brow. How the hell do you do that?

 

He doesn't have to think for long before Cas is off of his back and pushing his shoulders back. He falls onto his butt and catches himself with his free hand to keep from rolling onto his back. Cas climbs onto him and sits on his lap, leaning against his chest, and flinging his legs over Dean's. One last step to win the round, Cas grabs Dean's hand that's still on the ground and pulls it onto his lap, resting it on his hipbone and then putting his hand over it to keep it in place. Dean takes in a sharp breath, but doesn't have time to over analyze it before Gabe yells out who's out and Cas pops open, sending them both flying backwards, landing on their backs, Cas still flat against Dean.

 

The game continues around them, but they're still lying on the floor. Dean sits up first, untangling Cas’ legs from his own. He shakes his head, looking down as Cas who's giggling uncontrollably. He offers him a hand to pull him up, but instead of letting go once he's on his feet, he starts leading him out of the room.

 

They don't stop walking until they've passed through the crowds of drunken teens, all the way to the front door. Cas locks his eyes into Dean's, travelling down to his lips. They both reach for the handle at the same time, their hands touching again as Dean's hand comes into contact with the cool metal first.

 

Opening it in sync, they're immediately hit with the harsh, fall air. Dean steps out onto the porch, waiting for Cas to follow. They don't speak, just dodge the lanterns and find their way into Gabe’s back garden. There's a few messy couples here and there, so Dean leads them both away from anyone else, until they find a secluded spot by a large oak tree.

 

Cas backs into the tree, squinting to try and see Dean's eyes with the dim light of the moon. Those striking green eyes are staring right back at him, and he flinches slightly as he feels Dean's hands rest upon his cheek bones.

 

Their breath fogs the air around them, and their faces inch a little closer. Alcohol and cologne swims around their heads, but it's much nicer than whatever half of the cheap stuff the other guys are using inside of the party. Cas brings his own hands up to Dean's face, wanting to make the move before anyone changes their minds.

 

Both pairs of eyes simultaneously flutter closed, and both hearts beat a little faster as their lips brush against each other. Dean tugs Cas closer into his body, feeling him shiver. He presses his mouth firmly against Cas’ lips, kissing him hard, not wasting time.

 

Their hands travel across each partner’s body. Dean slides his up Cas’ button down shirt, taking pleasure in feeling his exposed stomach. He moves down to his neck, deciding to leave his mark. He doesn't want Cas to forget him that easily.

 

Cas smirks, knowing exactly what Dean is doing. “Two can play at _that_ game,” he says huskily, proceeding to mimic Dean's actions and leave an even bigger hickey upon Dean's bare neck.

 

Dean swallows down a moan, not wanting Cas to know how bad he's affecting him right now. He moves his hands to Cas’ ass and gives a light squeeze, Cas’ breath faltering as he does.

 

They kiss for a bit, lips swelling and tongues swirling around each other, exploring the other boy’s mouth, as if searching for something they've been missing. Cas bites Dean's bottom lip and runs his tongue against it, earning a catch in breath and a shiver from Dean. Cas smirks into the Cas and placed his hands on either side of Dean's ribcage, and swiftly flips them around. Dean collides with the tree gently and looks at Cas, pupils blown wide from alcohol and arousal. Cas steps close once again, and slots their bodies together, leaving no space to breathe, but neither boy is complaining. They're both too engrossed in the other to focus on oxygen. They're getting their life from the others lips.

 

Cas presses their bodies impossibly closer, running his fingers through grease ridden hair. Dean can't hold back a moan as Cas tugs on his hair and slowly rolls his hips into Dean's. He smirks at the reaction and does it again, detaching from Dean's lips and pressing his own into Dean's collarbone, sucking hard and marking him up.

 

Dean throws his head back and it bumps against the rough bark. His breathing is erratic as Cas puts his hands on Dean's shoulders underneath the jacket and starts to push it off. He grabs Cas’ wrist. Cas gives him a confused and worried look, but Dean kisses him deeply and erases it.

 

“Not here. Somewhere private,” Dean growls.

 

Cas smirks and kisses Dean once more, grinding into him and show that he is completely happy with this decision. Dean grabs his hand and they dodge all the drunken couples once more, pushing through the crowds of people in the house, and practically sprinting up the stairs. Maybe this party wasn't so bad after all.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**_The next morning,  
11.39a.m._ **

 

 

The piercing light behind Dean's eyes causes him to be abruptly awoken from quite a pleasant dream he was having. He groans loudly, feeling a thumping ache inside of his skull… _How much did he have to drink in the end?_

 

Taking a while to work up the strength to open his eyes, he glances around for Cas – or, was that all just a dream? He can't see him, but he can see the scrunched up duvet, and various empty cans strewn over the covers.

 

Dean dares not move, in fear the copious amounts of alcohol may want to come back up again. “Cas?” He calls out weakly, almost laughing at his failed attempt.

 

“Cas?” He shouts a little louder, holding his head as he feels a sharp stab against it.

 

“In here,” a quiet voice replies, and Dean's blurry vision follows the source of sound to the bathroom.

 

He's getting snippets of last night all coming back to him – they did endure a lot more alcohol. Running a hand through his hair, his eyes travel down to his exposed hip bones. They seem to be literally aligned with purple and red marks. Damn, Cas got busy.

 

“I can't move,” Dean whines, wanting Cas to come and cuddle him.

 

“Don't expect _me_ to help,” the guy in the bathroom remarks, and Dean pouts sadly.

 

A few seconds later Dean hears footsteps padding along the floor, and he opens his eyes to see a rather disheveled looking Cas. “Hm, you look terrible,” Dean chuckles, but then soon changes his tone to a groan from the pain once again.

 

“You look terrible… Er,” Cas rubs his eyes, trying to think of something to snap back with, but failing awkwardly.

 

He falls onto the bed, the collision affecting Dean's eyesight. They both groan dramatically, and lean into the other’s touch. “Why did I drink that much?” Cas rests his bed head upon Dean's half exposed chest.

 

“‘Cause you're stupid,” he helpfully replies, smiling down at the blue eyed boy.

 

Cas narrows his eyes up at Dean, and sighs. “You wouldn't have met me though,” Dean counteracts with a more positive remark, painting a small smile over Cas’ face.

 

“True,” he comments back, finding Dean's hand and lacing their fingers together again. “So, last night…” He trails off, feeling his stomach doing an unwelcoming flip.

 

“Hmm?” Dean hums contentedly, running his spare set of fingers through Cas’ messy hair.

 

Resisting the nausea, Cas recomposes himself. “Like, are we gonna be serious now?” He blurts out, flinching as Dean tugs on his hair.

 

Taken aback by such a request, he begins to stammer again. Having to stop and take a breath, Dean sits in thought for a moment or two. “Do you want to?” He eventually asks, gently kissing the top of Cas’ head as an apology for hurting him.

 

“Do _you_ want to?” A smirk dances across his expression, whereas Dean simply rolls his eyes – he does this a lot.

 

“What do you think?” Sarcasm takes over the nervous stammer, and Cas looks up into his eyes again.

 

Nodding once, they both break into wide smiles. “Didn't think I'd end Halloween with a boyfriend, but there we go.”

 

Dean squeezes Cas’ hand and rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, and thinking about what the past 24 hours has gotten him. He’ll have to remember to thank Charlie.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**_By Sam and Kait._ **

 


	25. DeanCas Wedding. Part 1.

 

___

  
**_30th July, 2017.  
11.34a.m._ **

 

  
“Dean, you should probably eat something.” Sam mutters, re-adjusting his bow tie in the mirror, crouching down behind the chair his elder brother is sat in.

  
Dean's leg bounces up and down, he stares at his smart tux in the reflective glass before him. Tiny beads of sweat form around his hairline, and he hums Metallica under his breath. “Can't,” he shakes his head. “Not unless you want the humour of watching me hurl in front of everyone.” Dean rests his head in his hands, another hiccup causing his body to bounce.

  
A chuckle escapes Sam’s lips, followed by an enthusiastic knock at the hotel room door. The brothers have never set foot in such a fancy hotel… it's not normal for them, they're used to dust and grime – not room service and fluffy towels. “Not funny… _so_ not funny,” Dean mumbles under his breath, leaving Sam to go and answer the door.

  
The younger Winchester pulls it open, and is greeted by a loud squee. “Where’s the groom?! I mean… groom number two, or one. However you choose to look at it,” a redhead rambles, releasing herself from a warm Sam hug.

  
He chuckles, stepping aside to let her in. “Dean! Holy shit… you look so nervous. I mean, who wouldn't be though?” Dean looks up at her, his eyebrow raised.

  
“You're right… not helping.” She mutters, taking the silent hint.

  
Dean stands up, and opens his arms for a hug. “Hey, Charlie.” He kisses the top of her head, and she squeezes his waist.

  
“I just met your Mom – she's a lot like you,” the girl grins, looking up at the anxious man. “We bonded over coming back from the dead, it was truly beautiful.” Charlie jokes, actually getting a small laugh out of Dean.

  
He exhales shakily, moving over to sit on the bed. “You look great, by the way.” His eyes shift to Charlie’s flowing red dress. One rule that Dean and Cas decided on, was where what you damn well want to – no stupid dress codes, or whatever. Just look somewhat formal (Cas scribbled that on the bottom of every invitation, and Mary made sure that they didn't tell Dean.)

  
“Thanks! You boys don't look too shabby yourselves,” the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile, as she turns to see Sam’s doing the same.

  
The ceremony is due to start at one pm, but everyone is still adding their finishing touches to their outfits and hair. Charlie has come to help Dean style his, and she's already had hers beautifully curled by an onsite hairdresser – Mary planned most of the decor and styling parts, whereas Dean and Cas kind of let her take over.

  
“Alright, so I'm gonna style it to the side. Is that okay?” She pulls some hair gel and a comb out of what seems to be a never ending handbag, and then rubs some onto the tips of her freshly manicured fingers.

  
Dean shrugs nonchalantly, causing Charlie to flick him on the nose. “This is an important day, Winchester!” She scolds, then brings the comb up to his bedhair.

  
“I know… it's just, like, I’ve never done anything like this before.” He toys with his fingers, and gulps loudly.

  
Charlie giggles. “What, get married?” He gives her a look, and she smiles softly.

  
“You'll be fine.” She cards her fingers through his hair, setting the gel so that he looks much more presentable now.

  
Continuing to style the hair upon his head, she decides to strike up a conversation in order to try and distract him. “So, who's taking who's name then? Cas becoming a Winchester, or are you becoming a… wait, do angels even have last names?” She begins to ramble.

  
“Cas is becoming a W – Winchester,” Dean coughs, tapping his foot against the floor. “What if he changes his mind?” He suddenly blurts out, looking up at Charlie with watery eyes.

  
“Of course he won't, you dork. He proposed to _you_ , remember?” She laughs, taking his hand.

  
Dean chuckles half-heartedly, feeling grateful as she keeps his shaking hand steady. “Yeah… yeah, you're right.” He shakes his head, and closes his eyes.

   
Another knock at the door distracts Sam from waiting patiently for Charlie to help Dean out of an oncoming panic attack, and he goes to answer it. “Hey, Mom.” A wide smile spreads across his face, as he brings the shorter woman into a warming embrace.

  
“Is he in here?” The blonde whispers excitedly, flattening out her pale blue dress.

  
Sam nods, stepping aside to let her in. Mary gasps, her eyes settling upon the dapper man sat on the edge of the bed. “M – Mom, I – I didn't know you were coming up here so early,” Dean stammers, swallowing another hiccup.

  
The Mother stands in front of her eldest son, her eyes welling with water. “Mom, you promised you wouldn't cry until at least the start of the ceremony,” Dean looks up at her, biting the inside of his cheek out of stress.

  
“I'm not crying!” She exclaims, and Charlie turns around to investigate. The redhead’s hand presses to her hip, and then she starts to tear up too.

  
“God dammit!” Charlie huffs, turning back around to add the finishing touches to Dean’s hair.

  
He clears his throat, and stands up. Walking towards the mirror, he crouches down to have a look. “Good?” Charlie asks, waiting in anticipation.

  
Dean spins around on the heels of his shiny, black shoes. “Thanks,” he walks forwards, engulfing his friend into another hug.

  
She smiles proudly, and then turns to Mary – who's dramatically fanning her face. “C’mon, Mrs. W!” Charlie wraps an arm around her shoulders, and starts leading her towards the door.

  
“Wait, where’re you going?” Dean calls out, reaching over to grab a mug, but Sam slaps his hand away.

  
“No more coffee,” the younger brother snaps, and Dean flips him off.

  
Charlie stops at the door, and carries on comfortingly rubbing the centre of Mary’s back. “I've gotta go help Cas now!” She says, and Dean clutches at his stomach.

  
“Okay, let's go!” The redhead takes Mary’s hand, and pulls her out of the door.

  
Dean breathes slowly in and out, and staggers towards the bed again. “Dude, chill.” Sam takes his brother by the shoulders, steadying him before he physically passes out.

  
____

 

“Knock, knock!” Charlie sing-songs, standing next to Mary outside of Cas’ hotel room door.

  
A few seconds later the door swings open, and Castiel stands before her. He's already wearing his tux – a black tie, rather than bow tie. Charlie grins, and Mary’s face softens. His hair looks an absolute mess, and his shirt is half untucked. “Help,” the angel mutters, stepping sideways so that Charlie and Mary can walk in.

  
Cas closes the door behind them all, and then wanders over to his dressing table. There's a lot of cologne scattered over the tabletop, as well as various hair brushes and combs. “What would Dean want my hair to look like?” He scratches his chin, beginning to pace the room.

  
“I'm going to style it just fine, don't you worry.” Charlie beams, patting him on the shoulder.

  
Castiel nods once, a small smile appearing as a thank you. Mary sits on the bed, admiring the work of Charlie's hairstyling. Cas tilts his head, and Charlie moves it back up again. “How do you know how to style hair?” The angel sounds confused, causing his temporary hairdresser to chuckle.

  
“Eighteen year old Charlie had to pay for comiccon somehow,” she says, and Mary laughs quietly from behind them.

  
Castiel refrains from asking what on earth a so-called ‘comiccon’ is. He looks down at his outfit, feeling Charlie move his head back upwards again. “Do I look alright? Is this what I'm supposed to be doing?” He shoots concerned question after question at the poor girl.

  
“Hey, Cas?”

  
“Yes, Charlie?” He turns to face her, blue eyes laced with anxiety and anticipation for the day ahead of him.

  
“You look amazing.” She smiles, giving his hair the finishing touch by spraying it with hairspray.

  
Cas blinks his eyes, and coughs. “I do?” He stands up, and is pulled into an unexpected hug.

  
“Save those words for later,” she jokes, lightly punching his chest as they exit the hug.

  
Castiel then turns to Mary. “You're still okay with me taking your son’s hand in marriage?” He asks sincerely.

  
She stands up, and walks up to him. Her hands settle upon his tie, and she turns it back to front. “Now Dean will love it.” Mary winks, and looks into his ocean eyes.

  
“You have my blessing forever, and always.” She reassures him, and Castiel breaks into the brightest smile known to man.

  
____

 


	26. Neighbouring.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is too small to be a fic, but kind too big / has too many parts to be just a oneshot. I'm not sure where it's even going yet, but I hope you like it.

 

____

 

 _**Friday,** _  
_**21st October, 1997.** _  
_**4.30p.m.** _

 

  
“Yes, I’ll close up shop!” Dean yells back, rubbing his greased hands onto his already filthy overalls. “Alright… yeah, I know where the keys are.” His eyes roll, as his Father continues to yell instructions from out front – he has a client to meet tomorrow to sell to, so he's leaving Dean in charge of shutting up in an hour and a half.

 

Finally, he hears John’s car start up. There's a few more workers left cleaning up the vehicles, just like Dean. He swoops a cloth over an old vintage car someone dropped in, because they have a car show at the weekend. It has to be done by tomorrow morning, and Dean's been cleaning it for what feels like a whole day already.

 

Soon, he heads into the main office to check his list of jobs. He's done all but one – pick up the antique car part from Novak’s. “Shit,” he curses, scrunching up the note in one fist.

 

There's half an hour until closing time, and the new details have to be added to the right car before opening time tomorrow. Breaking into a run, Dean tears out of the open garage door, and towards the wooden entrance beside the mechanics. The worn out paint on the sign is almost fully faded – Mr. Novak is always complaining about how his back is too bad to paint it again. Dean remembers him painting it years ago, despite the fact he swears it wasn't too long in the past.

 

Peaking through the dusty glass, he can't quite make out who's on the counter. Sighing to himself, Dean shoves the door open (it gets jammed… a lot). There's no customers left, since both shops close in sync. Actually, there's nobody at the desk either. But, relief washes over him when he sees the exact part he's looking for, resting on top of the counter with a note attached. It's from Mr. Novak, and there's a sarcastic comment about how he knows Dean will be late.

 

“Rude,” Dean mutters, reading the note as quickly as he can.

 

“Hey. My Dad wasn't wrong though,” despite such a timid tone, Dean still jumps quite violently at the sudden break in silence.

 

Someone appears from out back, and smirks as they lean against the door frame. “Castiel, you actual –”

 

“Hi, Dean.” The cheeky smile distracts him from whatever insult he'd previously had in mind, and his cheeks start to get warm.

 

He clears his throat, and stumbles backwards a little bit. Dean's heel bumps into some old chair, and he turns around to yell at it. “I hate comin’ in here, I always break shit,” the Winchester mumbles, his face growing more red – this time from embarrassment.

 

Castiel walks out from behind the counter, and gives the chair a small inspection. “It's not broken.” He smiles, pointing to the still intact piece of furniture.

 

“Oh, good… I’d better head back. Thanks for the car thing… the uh, yeah.” Dean continues walking backwards, giving Castiel a wave and bumping into the door in the process.

 

As soon as he's back out in the damp, Kansas air, he starts quietly swearing under his breath. Always making a fool out of himself seems to be a theme when entering the antiques store, and it makes Dean feel stupid. Yeah… stupid, nothing else. He just has a fear of breaking stuff. That's all.

 

____

 

**_Monday,  
15th July, 1998.  
9.45a.m._ **

 

  
Dean wanders back and forth in front of the garage, trying to get his mind in order. The shop is pretty empty today – most people are vacationing, and have already brought in their cars for any last minute touch ups. Their usual customers don't have many problems with their vehicles in the summer, because winter means snow, and snow means bumps on their metal, etc. So, John has left him in charge of ordeals, whilst he goes on a date – yeah, he's found a new someone. It happened around New Years, but he didn't officially tell Dean until just after his 19th birthday – something to do with ‘adulting’ and alcohol, really.

 

“You seem kinda troubled,” a voice interrupts his thought processing, but for a moment Dean thinks it's his imagination.

 

He glances upwards, squinting from the beaming rays of sunlight coming from above. Castiel is standing opposite him – wearing a pair of overalls over a band tee, which for some unknown reason gives Dean a bout of butterflies. “Cas, hi.” The nickname his brain keeps on telling him to drop – because they're barely even friends – slips out, again.

 

“Hey,” the guy grins anyway, pushing his sunglasses up onto the top of his head, to be able to see Dean a little better. “You okay?” He then asks.

 

Dean nods warily. He shoves up his overalls sleeves a little more, despite the fact they won't go any further. “No customers… uh, I'm bored?” His speech is just as melted as his mind. Maybe it's the heat, or the fact that Cas makes him feel so nervous. Maybe the heat makes him nervous… _what is he even thinking about?!_

 

“Wanna come get a milkshake?” Castiel says confidently, stepping closer.

 

“It's ten am,” Dean mutters, unable to maintain eye contact long enough to watch Cas giggle.

 

“Dad’s closed our shop for the day… John won't know if you do the same, even for a couple hours.” He has a point. A lot of shops do that in the summer here anyway, so what could go wrong?

 

He eventually nods, and hurries off to close the garage door and put up the ‘closed’ sign. Cas waits for him, and then they cross the street to the little diner. It's much cooler in there, and Castiel insists Dean sits down before he passes out from heat exhaustion (he's honestly fine though), whilst he orders their shakes.

 

Sometimes they come here after closeup, usually if their Dads have headed home first though. It became a thing sometime last autumn, when Dean had a huge argument with his Dad about something, and Cas found him kicking stones against the walls that separate their buildings, inside of the tiny alleyway. They talked a lot that night, and have only gotten closer ever since. Dean wishes he has the confidence to properly confide in Cas… but, maybe one day.

 

“You sure you're okay? You look awfully flushed and red eyed,” Castiel slides into the seat opposite Dean, in the booth by the window – directly under the air conditioning unit.

 

Dean's eyes roll – it's a bad habit – and he bites the straw that's pointing out of his chocolate milkshake. “It's called hay fever, Novak. I thought you were a clever college kid,” he smirks playfully, and takes a sip of the cool liquid.

 

Castiel blushes, and his brow furrows. “Am I not allowed to show concern for a friend? You looked too hot in those overalls, I – I mean,” Cas realises his choice of words may have been a little too awkward, and he glances up to notice Dean staring downwards at his scruffy sneakers.

 

He digs his top teeth into his bottom lip, before taking the longest gulp of his strawberry shake to try and wash away his embarrassment. Dean coughs, and then finally glances upwards. “Thanks… for your concern. And, the accidental compliment,” he laughs, and Castiel starts to smile.

 

He flickers his gaze upwards too, and joins it with Dean's. They stare for a few seconds, both smiling, before looking away in sync once again. Cas notices Dean's freckles already getting more noticeable, thanks to the direct sunlight he's been working under recently. Each of the boys sigh quietly, and stare out of the window.

 

“How's Sam?” Castiel knows Dean’s brother has only just graduated high school. They don't see much of eachother, as Sam doesn't work in the shop and rarely visits for Cas to notice.

 

A wide smile spreads across Dean’s now paler face. “He's applying for Stanford,” he exclaims, and Cas’ eyes widen.

 

“No way! That's awesome!” He grins. “I did my first math major there, two years ago.” Dean blinks.

 

He takes a further sip of his drink, trying to think how not to over compliment or gush over Castiel's intellect. “I wish I was clever,” falls from his mouth instead… making him sound as if he's a whiny child. Maybe he should've just stuck with the compliments instead.

 

“You are,” Cas frowns. “Just ‘cause you're not a college kid doesn't mean you aren't.”

 

Dean laughs, and leans back in his cushioned seat. “Sure, I can fix a car. But, sixteen year old me was changing wheels, whilst you were out being a little Einstein.” He admits, and Cas leans across the table.

 

“Do you want to go to college?” He asks.

 

The green eyed boy shrugs. “Maybe one day. Someone's gotta stay behind and take care of the family business though,” his mind wanders, and Dean silently decides he wants to drop the subject all together.

 

“Uh… I kinda don't feel well. I think the heat got to me,” he mumbles, trying to stand up.

 

Cas senses he hit a sore spot, and mentally kicks himself. He wants to be close to Dean – he has done ever since he worked his second day in the antiques store, and wandered across to the diner on his lunch break, discovering a green eyed kid having lunch alone at a table. He was listening to rock music in his Walkman, tapping his foot as he bit into his burger. Castiel thought he was very nice to look at, and he still stands by that thought to this day… although, Dean actually has no idea about this.

 

“Listen, I shouldn't have –” Dean turns on his heel, about to reach for the door handle.

 

He stops a sigh from escaping. “It's fine, I just wanna go back to work.” The Winchester finalises, and Cas nods sadly.

 

Castiel watches Dean cross the street, and open up the garage again. He drinks his shake alone, peering out as Dean washes a car that some tourist brought in. He watches him wipe his brow, and watches the customer leave. He watches Dean's smile at the tip he received, and keeps on staring as the Winchester takes a seat on the cooler, concrete floor inside of the garage.

 

He wants to go over there, but he doesn't. Cas finishes his shake, and goes back home to study instead.

 

____

 

**_Friday,  
19th July, 1998.  
1.30p.m._ **

 

  
“Dean, will you just drop it!” Cas’ head snaps up from his work, as he hears someone outside.

 

He closes the book on poems that his eyes have been boring into for far too long, and creeps closer to the front door. He holds back a chuckle, gazing upon an argument unfolding between Dean and his little brother.

 

“Is she going to Stanford too?”

 

“Yeah… so what?”

 

“Get in there, that's what!” Dean punches Sam in the arm, and the teen stumbles off of the sidewalk.

 

Sam folds his arms over his chest, and scowls. “I just wanna be her friend.” He mumbles quietly, and Dean’s facial expression softens.

 

“Sorry, kid. I'll drop it,” he replies, pulling Sam back onto the sidewalk.

 

When no reply comes his way, Dean wonders what Sam is chuckling at. “Your boyfriend was watching us,” his head nods towards the closed door of the antique shop, and the elder brother turns around.

 

He then realises what Sam actually said, and turns around to smack him upside the head. “Go home and study. I'll keep the shop open myself,” Dean grumbles, and walks up to the door of Novak’s store before Sam can argue.

 

The doorbell jingles as he pushes it open, and Dean can hear Sam’s footsteps fading into the distance behind him. Satisfied with the fact his little brother cannot pester him any longer, Dean let's door shut behind him. “Cas,” he calls out, knowing full well that he's in here somewhere.

 

Sure enough, Castiel pokes his head out from behind a nearby shelf. “Hi,” he looks sheepish. “I – uh, heard someone arguing. I only went to see what was going on.” He admits, and Dean laughs.

 

“Hey, whilst you're here… or, whilst I'm here..” Dean trails off, trying to recompose his train of thought and speech. “I need your advice on something,” he finishes.

 

Cas steps out from behind the shelf, and gets closer. He locks eye contact to let Dean know he wants him to continue. “What can I get Sammy as a going away to college present?” Dean asks, seeming stressed over the topic.

 

Castiel’s brow furrows, as he heads deep into thought. “Wanna talk about it over a shake?” He asks a little too hopefully for his own liking, and then glances downwards at the floor.

 

“Um, can we just go sit in the shop? I don't want you paying again, ‘cause I left my money at home.” Castiel doesn't want to push Dean, by saying he can just pay him back – definitely not after Monday's antics – so, he nods in agreement instead.

 

He follows Dean outside, after making sure to turn the ‘closed’ sign around. They take a seat in John’s office (the only room with a fan), and Dean sits behind the desk. Cas knows Dean’s father is away, but he's unsure whether business or leisure. It's never a good idea to ask after John, so he simply never does.

 

Dean leans back in the chair, and unbuttons the first two buttons on his overalls. He's had a few jobs to do today, but everything seems to have died down now. Castiel isn't really concentrating on Dean telling him this though, as he seems to have developed a liking to the bare chest before him. In fact, he had no idea he was so engrossed in staring until Dean sneezes and scares him half out of his wits.

 

He looks back up from his staring contest with Dean’s exposed skin, and prays he isn't blushing as bad as he feels he is. Thankfully, it seems the Winchester hasn’t noticed, as he's too busy getting up to grab something from the tiny wooden shelf across the room. It's too late for Cas to say anything now, so he awkwardly stays quiet and waits for him to return.

 

Dean sits down again, squinting in confusion as to why the boy opposite seems to be acting so strange and flustered at the current moment. He takes another swig of his water, and sets the almost empty pill packet onto the desk. “Are you… alright?” He waves a hand in front of Cas’ glassed over eyes, causing Novak to start to stumble over his excuses.

 

After mumbling something or other about going off into a daydream, Cas remembers the whole reason they're here in the first place. “You could get Sam something for his course… what's he majoring in?” Castiel blurts out all in one breath, having to gasp for air a little at the end of his sentence.

 

Dean stops himself from asking of the poor guy has heatstroke, and then shakes his head. “I want it to be personal. Somethin’ he’ll keep, y’know?” He tilts his head to the side, his green eyes seeming to twinkle.

 

Cas swallows hard, and nods in agreement. “Y – yeah… uh, I could always draw something for part of the gift?” He feels stupid for saying so immediately after, but surprisingly, Dean looks excited.

 

“I'll pay you!” He exclaims, nodding away.

 

“Don't be silly,” Castiel scoffs, but Dean seems adamant on the fact.

 

He's already getting out of his chair, and walking closer to Cas. As he nears, Castiel subconsciously pushes his own backwards. Dean is overcome with his usual shyness once again, and he steps back even further. Now Novak realises his actions looked awfully rude, and he stands up too.

 

“I'm not contagious y’know, it's only –”

 

“I know. Hay fever,” Castiel mutters, his voice fading out as he's now so close to Dean after the Winchester had moved forwards in sync with the boy, that their lips are within touching distance, if only Cas was a little bit taller…

 

A sudden crash from somewhere inside of the garage makes both of them jump backwards in fright, and then awkward laughs fill the air at their actions. “Dean! I'm back!” The younger Winchester is yelling, clearly being clumsy as usual and falling over a toolbox, or something.

 

Dean mutters something inaudible to Cas’ ears, and heads for the door of John's office. He tugs it open just in time for Sam to reach the doorway, and hold up a small paper bag for him to take. “I went to the pharmacy,” he explains, peeking over Dean’s shoulder to spy Cas.

 

“Hi, Castiel!” He smiles, but Dean pushes the bag down and distracts him.

 

“I told you, save your own money!” Dean flicks Sam’s ear, and he pouts.

 

Rubbing the painful spot, he puts the bag at his big brother’s feet. “I earn more than you. Therefore, I help with healthcare… I take after Dad, not Mom. Not like you,” the tiniest smile of affection flickers on and off over Sam’s face, as he playfully punches Dean's arm.

 

A small moment of silence engulfs the pair, until Dean pushes his brother away, before picking up the bag. “Get out of here, jerk.” He mumbles, and Sam laughs.

 

“Bitch!” He yells, running out of the shop… and, tripping over something that clangs loudly once again.

 

Castiel is still standing behind him, waiting for some kind of instruction. He wants to leave, but Dean is standing in the doorway. It seems the boy has forgotten Cas is actually still here, as he stays frozen to the spot, seemingly in a trance for some reason. He decides to eventually clear his throat, before talking.

 

“What would you want me to draw?” He asks, going to stand beside Dean.

 

He turns, and a small look of realisation dawns on him – had he really forgotten Cas was behind him all that time? “Oh… uh… whatever, I guess we could talk about it again tomorrow?” Dean finally manages to spit out.

 

Castiel nods, feeling satisfied with the answer he has received. “I'd better go then,” he rummages for an excuse, but can't find one. Dean doesn't seem phased though, if anything he seems too distant to register Cas is being awkward.

 

So, he leaves Dean alone again.

 

____

 


	27. Grease!Deancas au.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dean and Charlie are invited to a college party – a.k.a the same party that Castiel Novak and his friends are sure to be attending – Bradbury and her girlfriend come up with a plan. They have to get Dean and Cas together... and, it just so happens that their theatre group are currently rather interested in the classic movie – Grease.

 

~

 

_**31st July, 1998.** _   
_**8.30p.m.** _

 

“Ow, Charlie… you're pulling my hair,” Dean grumbles, as the redhead teases the dirty blonde strands with copious amounts of gel – too much, if you ask Dean.

 

She rolls her eyes, and Dean sees in her vanity mirror. “I can see you,” he comment.

 

“I know,” she hums ‘sweetly’ in response.

 

After finally finishing the slick back style, Charlie moves on to getting some different things out of her bag. “Contacts,” she says. “You can do this bit… they gross me out too much to help,” she admits, handing them to Dean.

 

“Alright. I've done it a couple times before.” He shrugs, taking the small, plastic container.

 

He takes off the black framed eyewear, and places them onto the table in front. It takes a few minutes, but eventually Dean gets the contacts into his eyes. “Woah,” Dean mumbles, blinking a few times in an attempt to get used to the feeling.

 

“Finally, the outfit!” Charlie squeals with glee, taking the garments out of the now empty carrier bag.

 

She hands the clothes to Dean, and starts to walk towards her bedroom door. “Shout me when you're done!” The girl says, and Dean murmurs a quiet agreement.

 

He changes right away. But, stands in front of her mirror for longer. “Are you done yet?” Charlie's never been one for patience.

 

“Uh, yeah…” Dean calls back, still staring down his own reflection.

 

Black, leather jacket… _looks okay._ White shirt, _a little cheesy?_ Black jeans, _a bit too skinny._ White socks, _really?_ Black loafers… _kinda shiny, don't you think?_

 

“If I was straight –”

 

“Which you're not, so don't use that as a twisted way of complimenting how ridiculous I look.”

 

“Which I'm not,” Charlie repeats. “You look hot though,” she grins.

 

Dean sighs heavily. He just hopes that Cas will think so too.

 

~

 

**_9.30p.m._ **

 

“Thanks for the lift!” Charlie slams shut the door of Bobby’s truck.

 

She waits for Dean to get out of the front seat, and taps her foot to the music coming from the house party down the block. Bobby dropped them a few houses away, quote “not wanting to ruin {their} street cred.” Charlie laughed, but Dean grumbled and looked embarrassed.

 

Eventually, the Winchester gets out. He stretches his limbs in an uncomfortable manner, and nervously bites at his nails. Charlie waves to Bobby as he drives off, and then turns to her best friend.

 

“You're going to be fine. Just, remember what we planned,” she reassures him, with her hand placed firmly against his shoulder.

 

Dean nods wearily, staring ahead into the distance at the party goers who are all now arriving. His best friends smiles again, and then grabs his hand. They hurry down the sidewalk, arriving outside the bustle of college students – some making out on the lawn already, and others drinking from bottles whilst moving their hips to the upbeat song playing inside.

 

But, this isn't the music that they need. And, right on cue, Castiel Novak’s friendship group arrive. Bela – Charlie’s girlfriend – pulls up in her old fashioned mini, with all of the pride stickers slapped agiants the faded, bubblegum pink paintwork. She winks at her girlfriend upon arrival, their plan about to get into gear. She presses the button of her vehicle’s stereo, and a familiar song starts blasting.

 

Of course, Castiel is confused. He steps onto the sidewalk in sync to the beat dropping, and it actually makes him jump. He follows the gaze of his driver, and is met with Charlie. She gestures for him to look in a different direction – Dean’s direction, to be precise. That's when his jaw drops.

 

“I got chills, they're multiplyin’,” Cas blurts out, stepping closer to where Dean is now trying to light up the cigarette in his mouth.

 

He clumsily shoves the lighter back into his jeans pocket, and adverts his eyes upwards, when someone's finger pushes his chin that way. “And, I’m losin’ self-control… ‘cause, the power you're supplying, it's electrifying!” Cas steps back, admiring Dean as he looks him up and down as slowly as he can.

 

Dean turns back to Charlie, who mimes for him to stub out the cigarette. He does as he's shown, and squishes it against the sidewalk with the sole of his shoe. _It's now or never, Dean_. He clears his throat, and…

 

“You better shape up, ‘cause your the only one. And, my heart is set on you!” He sings, his voice louder and more confident as each word leaves his mouth.

 

Castiel's own pair of lips turn upwards into a smirk, as he watches Dean walk around him in a circle. “You better shape up, you better understand, to my heart I must be true.”

 

“You're the one that I want, you are the one I want,”

 

“Ooh, ooh, ooh, honey.” Bela and Charlie continue in the background.

 

“The one I need, oh yes, indeed.”

 

Dean has now stopped directly in front of Castiel once again, resuming where he was standing before, but now with a newfound spark of confidence in himself. He has eye contact locked into the beautiful shade of blue a few centimetres below his eye line, and Cas can't tear his own gaze away from the mesmerising shade of green – that's usually hidden behind a big pair of glasses.

 

“I better shape up, ‘cause you need a man,”

 

“I need a man,” Dean’s gaze adverts downwards, looming over Cas’ pretty in pink pair of lips. “Who can keep me satisfied.” He bites down against his own bottom one, temptation growing stronger by the millisecond.

 

“I better shape up, if I'm gonna prove,”

 

“You better prove…” Dean trails off, his voice getting lower.

 

“That my faith is justified,” Castiel is staring at Dean’s teeth sinking into his bottom lip now too, and inching a little closer as each word of the song comes closer to an end.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes, I’m sure, deep down inside.” Cas guides Dean’s right hand to rest gently upon his own waist, as they're now back to locking eye contact once again.

 

“That you're the one that I want,” both repeat simultaneously.

 

The music continues, but neither finish the song. As the last part of the chorus shakes the warm July dusk around them, both Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak close the smallest of gaps between them that had been keeping the pair apart. Their mouths meld together in one, swift movement. It starts off soft, and ginger… but, gradually gets a lot more passionate and rough.

 

And, then the song ends.

 

~

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Dean is really missing Cas, and using beer to make up for it. But, a case of the hiccups lighten the mood (well, for Sam anyway), and there's for sure a happy ending.
> 
> {Thanks to Linds, for helping with the prompt idea!!}

 

It's been days since Dean has heard from Cas. He hasn't been answering Dean’s calls, he hasn't sent a single text, or answered a single, measly prayer. To say it isn't getting to the elder Winchester would definitely be lying. After all, the fact that he's currently sat at a table in the bunker, on his third beer at four in the afternoon is hard proof right there.

 

He exhales heavily, toying with the phone in his hand. Dean uses his thumb to scroll through the texts he's sent Cas. There's a few that still haven't sent. Those are the ones that are a little too personal to actually press send on. “C’mon, Cas…” he mutters, locking the device and setting it down screen side up onto the table.

 

Dean’s mind wanders so far that he doesn't even notice his brother sit down opposite him. He stares into space for what seems like hours, occasionally feeling his hand wrap around the condensated beer bottle, and then taking a swig. It's after he downs the rest of the bottle that Sam frowns, wondering whether or not to interrupt his brother’s deep thought process.

 

But, something else does that for him. A high pitched noise actually startles Dean, even though he's the one that made it. Maybe downing that last beer wasn't such a good idea afterall.

 

“Where'd you come from?” Dean blinks, his eyes focussing on Sam who's still sat opposite.

 

“I've been here for the past twenty minutes, dude.” He mutters, looking back at his laptop screen.

 

Shrugging it off, Dean reaches for another beer, and cracks it open to be greeted a satisfying hissing noise from the trusty bottle. Before he can take another sip, another squeak interrupts him. He looks up at his brother, who's hiding behind the laptop screen with a childish smirk and dimples popping out.

 

“What're -- you laughing a--t?” Dean grumbles, being stopped mid-sentence each time the alcohol causes another hiccup.

 

“Nothing,” Sam remarks innocently.

 

Dean notices him reaching for his phone beside the computer. “What're you do--ing?” He coughs, tilting his head to see that he's now holding the phone up.

 

“Snapchat,” his brother replies.

 

“Sammy, I don't kn--ow what that is!” Dean snaps impatiently, folding his arms over his chest.

 

His brother starts laughing even harder, tapping away on his phone as he stares at the screen with a smile. “Think this is fun--ny?” Dean trips on his words again.

 

Sam closes the laptop, and looks at his elder sibling. “Yeah, yeah I do.” He grins, reaching over and grabbing the last of the beers from Dean’s side of the table.

 

“H--ey! That's mine!” He fails at snatching it back in time.

 

“Not anymore. I think you've had enough,” Sam’s eyebrows raise, and Dean looks defeated.

 

His mind is cloudy, and he's thinking about the angel at the back of it. He sits back down, and rests his head in his arms. “I miss Cas,” Dean whispers.

 

“He’ll be alright… you know that,” Sam trails off for a while, unsure of how to react to Dean’s sudden switch in moods.

 

The only reply Sam receives is another hiccup. Dean's shoulders shake from the noise, and even the tiny squeak sounds sad. The younger brother sighs. He misses Cas too, but not as much as Dean.

 

He stands up, quietly scraping his chair across the floor. Dean will probably sleep this off, and be fine again later. As he leaves the room, something echos through the air… the bunker door opening. Sam reaches for his gun out of instinct, but knows that their Mom knows how to get in, as well as some of the Brits now too. He waits for the thudding footsteps to come to a halt, and a shade of beige fills his vision.

 

“Cas?” Dean hears the name uttered, and immediately he gets up to run over beside his brother.

 

The visitor comes into full view, and a wave of relief rushes over Dean. “Cas!” He exclaims, a look of pure happiness flashing upon his face. “I was a worr--ied!” Dean walks over to where the confused looking angel is stood, and engulfs him in an embrace.

 

“Dean… what happened to your voice?” Castiel mumbles, hugging Dean back and truly taking a moment to appreciate the warm gesture.

 

They break apart simultaneously, and Cas watches Dean make another high pitched noise, his body jumping little bit. He raises two fingers, but the hunter his wrist. “Save your mojo, buddy. It's just the hiccups.” He grins lopsidedly.

 

Castiel nods, pretending to understand. “Humans, yes.” Cas mutters.

 

“Where have you been?” Sam asks, breaking the silence and staring contest that his brother is currently having with their newcomer.

 

Cas looks at the other hunter, and steps forwards. “Sorry for my absence. Let me tell you all about it now,” he apologises, and leads the brothers into the other room.

 

Dean follows after him, still grinning happily.

 

He got his angel back, safe and sound for once.

 


End file.
